IMAGE  EVALUATION 
TEST  TARGET  (MT-3) 


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Photographic 

Sciences 
Corporation 


23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  N.Y.  14S80 

(716)  872-4503 


C/.i 


CIHM/ICMH 

Microfiche 

Series. 


CIHM/ICMH 
Collection  de 
microfiches. 


Canadian  Institute  for  Historical  Microreproductions  /  Institut  canadien  de  microreproductions  historiques 


A 


Technical  and  Bibliographic  Notes/Notes  techniques  et  bibliographiques 


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This  item  is  filmed  at  the  reduction  ratio  checked  below/ 

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10X  14X  18X  22X 


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la  dernidre  page  qui  comporte  une  telle 
empreinte. 

Un  des  symboles  suivants  apparaftra  sur  la 
dernidre  image  de  cheque  microfiche,  selon  le 
cas:  le  symbole  — ►signifie  "A  SUIVRE",  le 
symbole  V  signifie  "FIN  ". 


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method: 


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et  de  haut  en  bas,  en  prenant  le  nombre 
d'images  ndcessaire.  Les  diagrammes  suivants 
illustrent  la  m6thode. 


1 

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X 


\ 


^  *■ 


FLORA   LYNDSAY; 


OE, 


PASSAGES    IN   AN    EVENTFUI    LIFE. 


BY  MRS.  MOODIE, 

AUTHOR   OF  "mark   HURDLESTONE,"  "  LIFE    IN   THE    CLEARING*," 

"roughing  it  in  the  bush,"  etc. 


COMPLETE  IN  ONE  VOLUME. 


NEW    YORK: 

DE   WITT  &   DAVENPORT,  PUBLISHERS,     , 
160   &   162   NASSAU  STREET. 


l 


PS  di  a  L, 

66  3 


*  >.' 


N'^^^^^^h^kA^^rf^^^V*^ 


HOLUAV,  OtLkY  St  Co.,  Prlntem. 
New-York. 


€OJ^TEI(TS. 


VBU?TXR 

I.    MATRIMONIAL  MALSCUE,    -  .  .  . 

n.   THE  OU)  CAPTAfK,       .... 
ill.   THE  OLD  CAPTAIN  IN  PHRfiON,    .  .  .  [  [ 

«V     A  VISIT  OF  CONDOLENCE,    .... 
y.   THE  TRUE  FPIENB,      .  ,  .  _ 

VI.   flora's  OUTFIT  .  . 

VII.    HOW   MISS    WILHELMINA    r»i»«    .,.,> 

"i^LMINA    CARR    aWD    FLORA    BECAME    AO 

QUAINTED,       .  .  .  _ 

VIII.    MISS  WILHELMINA  CALLS  trpoNFLBRA,        .  .'  '  ' 

IX.    FLORA  GOES  TO  TEA  WITH  MISS  CARR,         .  .  ,  ] 

X.   OLD  JARVIS   AND    HIS   1)00    -NEPTUNE    ' 

-.    FLORA    IN    SEARCH    OF  A  SERVANT.  HE.RS   A  REAL  OHOsJ 
STORT,     -  .  .  _  _ 

XII.    THE  LAST  HOURS  AT  HOME, 
XIII.    THE  DEPARTURE,  ... 


PACa 

5 
10 
13 

18 
25 
23 

32 
40 
48 
60 


^IV.   AN  OPEN  BOAT  AT  SEA, 
XV.   ONCE  MORK  AT   HOME, 
XVI.    THE   FOG,      -  ...  * 

XVII.    THE    STEAMBOAT, 
EVIII.   A  PEEP  INTO  THE  LADI-ES'  CABIN, 
XIX.    MRS.  DALTON,        .  .  .  _ 

XX.    EDINBURGH,  .  .  .  _ 

XXI.   MRS.  WADDEL,      -  .  .  , 

XXII.   CLIMBING  THE  MOUNTAIN, 

XXIII.  THE  BRIG  ANNE, 

XXIV.  A  VlSflT  TO  THE  SHIP-OWNEP^     . 

XXV.    flora's  DINNER,  -  -  .  . 

XXVI.   FEARS  OF   THE    Cnorvn<      r.-.. 

THE    CHOLERA-DEPARTURE    FROM   SCOTLAND, 

"VII.   A  NEW  SCENE  AND  STRANGE  FACES,  -  ;         . 

*XVIII.   THE  STATE  CABIN,        .  _ 

"  *  •  •  • 

KXIX.   FLORA'S  FELLOW-PJSSENGBRS, 


-  67 

-  82 

-  88 

-  94 

-  ICJ 
•    103 

107 

112 

120 

135 

12J 

135 

141 

146 

153 

160 

167 

175 
181 


If 


CONTEXTS. 


f- 


XXX.   THE  LAST  OLANCE  0»'  SCOTLAND,        .  .  •  .  190 

ZXXl.    STEPHEN  CORRIR,        ...  ....  195 

XXXII.  THE  captain's  'prentick,        ---.•-  201 

XXXIII.  THE   LOST  JACKET,  AND  OTHER  MATTBR9,  ...  205 

XXXIV.  8T0RV  OF    NOAH  COTTON — THE   WIDOW  OXIMSHAWB,  AND 

HER  NEI0HBOK»,    ........  21G 

XXXV.   THE  SISTERS,       -..--.--.  221 

XXXVI.   THE  GHOST, --.231 

XXXVII.   THE  PROPOSAL,  ........  242 

ZXXVIII.   THE  DISCLOSURE,  -  .  .....  248 

XXXIX.   THE  NIGHT  ALONE,      ........  25C 

XL.    THE  MEETING,  .---....  260 

XLI.    THE   MUBDEREr's   MANUSCHIFT,  .  -  -  .  -  263 

XLII.    MY  FIRST  LOVE,  -----...  26^ 

XLIH.    TEMPTATION,  ..._....  274 

XHV.    THE   PLOT,  ----.->..  279 

XLV.    THE   MURDER,,  ........  28S 

XLVI.    THE  MOTHER,  -...-.._  291 

J    XLVII.    A  LAST    LOOK   AT   OLD   FRIENDS,  .....  295 

XLVIII.    MY   MOTHER   AND    THE    SQUIRE,  -  -  -  .  .  300 

XLIX.    EVIL  THOUGHTS — THE   PANGS  OF  REMORSE,  -  -  308 

L.    TRUST    IN    GOD,  ..-,-..  314 

LI.   FISHING   ON   THE   DANKS,  .....  316 

Lll.    THE  STORM,        -----..-  326 

UII.   THE  SHIP  COMES  TO  ANCHOR,  AND  THE  BOOK  TO  A  CLOSE  "^Sb 


8 


V.  H.  Tataon,  Sttreotysper,  24  Beekman  tired,  N.  Y. 


* 


FLORA  LINDSAY; 


OR, 


PASSAGES  IN  AN  EVENTFUL  LIFE 


CHAPTER    I. 

A  MATRIMONIAL  DIALOGUE. 

"  Flora,  have  you  forgotten  the  talk  we  had  about  emigration^ 
the  morning  before  our  marriage  ?"  was  a  question  rather  suddenly 
put  to  his  young  wifo,  by  Lieutenant  Lyndsay,  as  he  paus^^  in  his 
walk  to  and  fro  in  .he  room.  The  fact  is,  that  he  had  been  pon- 
dering over  that  conversation  for  the  last  hour. 

It  had  long  been  foi'gotten  by  his  wife ;  who,  seated  upon  the 
sofa  with  a  young  infant  of  three  years  old  in  her  lap,  was  calmly 
watching  its  sleeping  face  with  inc«:pressible  delight.  She  now 
left  off  her  ma'jernal  studies ;  and  looked  up  at  her  husband,  with 
an  inquiring  glance — 

*'  Why  do  you  ask,  dear  John  ?" 

"  Are  you  turned  Quaker.  Flora,  that  you  cannot  give  one  a 
direct  answer  ?" 

"  T  have  Jiot  forgotten  it  But  we  have  been  so  happy  ever 
slnre,  that  I  have  never  given  it  a  second  thought.  What  put  it 
into  yoTir  head  just  now  ?" 

"  That  cUild — and  thinking  how  I  could  provide  for  her  in  any 
other  way." 

"  Dear  little  pet !  She  cannot  add  much  to  our  expenses."  And 
the  mother  bent  o^rer  her  sleeping  child,  and  kissed  its  soft,  velvet 
cheek,  with  a  zest  that  mothers  alone  know. 

"  Not  at  present.  But  the  little  pet  will  in  time  grow  into  a 
tall  girl ;  and  other  Uttle  pets  may  be  treading  upon  her  fQQtsteps ; 
and  they  must  all  be  clothed,  and  fed,  and  educated." 


6 


TLORA    LYNDSAT. 


I    1 


■ 


fe 


Flora,  111  hor  overflowing  happiness,  had  dismissed  all  such  cruel 
realities  from  her  mind. 

"  Emigration  Ls  a  terrible  word,  John.  I  wish  that  it  could  be 
expunged  from  our  Englinh  dictionary." 

"I  urn  afraid,  my  dear  girl,  that  you  ai«  destined  to  learn  a 
practical  illustration  of  its  meaning.  Nay,  don't  look  so  dospond- 
ingly.  If  you  intended  to  remuia  in  England,  you  should  not  have 
married  a  poor  mafi." 

*'  Don't  say  that,  John,  or  you  will  make  me  miserable.  Our 
marriage  made  me  rich  in  treasures,  which  gold  could  never  buy. 
But,  seriously,  I  do  not  see  this  urgent  necessity  for  taking  such  a 
hazardous  step.  I  know  that  we  are  not  rich — that  our  expecta- 
tions on  that  score  for  the  future  are  very  limited.  We  are  both 
the  younger  children  of  layge  fanulies,  whose  wealth  and  conse- 
quence is  now  a  thing-  of  the  past.  We  have  nothing  to  hope  or 
anticipate  from  rich  relations  ;  but  we  have  enough  to  be  comfort- 
able, and  are  surrounded  with  many  blessings.  Oup  little  girl, 
whose  presence  seems  to  have  conjured'  before  you  the  gaunt  image 
of  poverty,  has  added  greatly  to  our  domestic  happiness.  Yes> 
little  Miss  Innocence  f  you  arc  awake,  arc  you  ?  Come,  crow  to 
jjapa,  and  drive  these  ugly  thoughts  out  of  his  liead." 

The  good  father  kissed  fondly  the  young  thing  seducingly  held 
up  to  him.  But  he  did  not  yield  to  the  temptation,  or  swerve 
from  his  purpose,  though  Flora  kissed  him,,  with  eyes  brimful  of 
tears. 

"  We  are  indeed  happy,  love.  Too  loappy,  I  might  say.  But 
will  it  last?" 

"Why  not?" 

"  Our  income  is  very  small  ?"  with  a  deep  sigh. 

"  It  is  enough  for  our  present  wauts.     And  we  have  no  debts."^ 

"  Thanks  to  your  prudent  management.  Yes,  we  have  no  debts. 
But  it  has  been  a  hard  battle,  only  gained  by  great  self-denial,  and 
much  pinching.  We  have  kind  friends,  too.  But  Flora,  I  am  too 
proud  to  be  indebted  to  friends  for  the  common  necessaries  of  life ; 
and  without  doing  something  to  improve  our  scanty  means,  it 
might  come  to  that.  The  narrow  income  which  has  barely  sup- 
plied our  wants  this  year,  without  the  incumbrance  of  a  family, 
will  not  do  so  next.  There  remains  no  alternative  but  to  emir- 
grater 

Flora  felt  that  this  was  pressing  her  hard.    All  her  affectionate 


; 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


iDgonnity  could  not  furnish  an  argument  against  such  home  tmtha. 
"Let  us  drop  this  hateful  subject,"  said  she,  hastily;  "I  cannot 
bear  to  think  about  it" 

"  But,  my  dear  girl,  we  must  force  ourselves  to  think  about  it, 
calmly  and  dispassionately  ;  and  having  determined  which  is  the 
path  of  duty,  we  must  follow  it  out,  without  any  reference  to  our 
own  likes  and  dislikes.  Our  marriage  would  have  been  a  most  im- 
prudent one,  had  it  been  contracted  on  any  other  terms  ;  and  we 
are  both  to  blame  that  we  have  loitered  away  so  many  months  of 
valuable  time  in  happy  'ase,  when  we  should  have  been  earning 
independence  for  ourselves  and  our  family." 

"  You  may  be  right,  John, — yes,  I  know  that  you  are  right. 
But  it  is  no  such  easy  matter  to  leave  your  home  and  country,  and 
the  dear  friends  whose  society  renders  life  a  blessing  and  poverty 
endurable — to  abandon  a  certain  good  for  an  uncertain  better,  to 
be  sought  for  among  untried  difficulties.  I  would  rather  live  in  a 
cottage  in  England,  upon  brown  bread  and  milk,  than  occupy  a 
palace  on  the  other  side  of  the  Atlantic." 

"  This  sounds  very  prettily  in  poetry,  Flora ;  but,  my  dear  girl, 
life  is  mode  up  of  stern  realities,  and  it  is  absolutely  necessary  for 
us  to  provide  against  the  dark  hour  before  it  comes  suddenly  upon 
us.  Our  future  prospects  press  upon  my  heart  and  brain  too 
forcibly  to  be  neglected.  I  have  thought  long  and  painfully  upon 
the  subject,  and  I  have  come  to  the  resolution  to  emigrate  this 
spring." 

"  So  soon  ?" 

"  The  sooner  the  better.  The  longer  we  defer  it  the  more  diffi- 
culties we  shall  have  to  encounter.  The  legacy  left  you  by  your 
aunt  will  pay  our  expenses  out,  and  enable  us,  without  touching 
my  half-pay,  to  purchase  a  farm  in  Canada." 

"Canada!" 

Flora's  eye  brightened. 

"  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  that  it  is  not  to  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope !" 

"  In  this  decision.  Flora,  I  have  yielded  to  your  wishes.  My 
ovon  inclinations  would  lead  me  back  to  a  country  where  I  hav » 
dear  friends,  a  large  ^ract  of  land,  and  where  some  of  the  happi^ 
years  of  my  life  were  spent.  You  are  not  wise,  Flora,  to  regar«j 
the  Cape  with  such  horror.  No  person  would  delight  more  in  the 
beautiful  and  i^omantic  scenery  of  that  country  than  yourself.  You 
have  taken  up  a  foolish  prejudice  against  the  land  I  love." 


8 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"  It  is  not  that,  dear  J  jhn.  But  you  know  I  have  such  a  terror 
of  the  wild  beasts — those  dreadful  snakes  and  lions!  I  never 
should  dare  to  stir  beyond  the  garden,  for  fear  of  being  stung  or 
devoured.    And  then,  I  have  been  bored  to  death  about  the  Cape, 

by  our  good  friends  the  P 's,  till  I  hate  the  very  name  of  tLa 

place  I" 

"  You  will  perhaps  one  day  find  out  your  error.  Flora;  and  your 
fears  are  perfectly  absurd  I  Not  wishing  to  render  your  emigration 
more  painful,  by  taking  you  to  a  country  to  which  you  are  so 
averse,  I  have  made  choice  of  Canada,  hoping  that  it  might  be  more 
to  your  taste.  The  only  obstacle  in  the  way,  is  the  reluctance  you 
feel  at  leaving  your  friends.  Am  I  less  dear  to  you.  Flora,  than 
friends  and  country?" 

This  was  said  so  kindly,  and  with  such  affectionate  earnestness 
for  her  happiness  more  than  his  own — for  it  was  no  small  sacrifice 
to  Lyndsay  to  give  up  going  back  to  the  Cape — that  it  overcame 
all  Flora's  obstinate  scruples. 

"  Oh,  no,  no ! — you  arc  more  to  me  than  all  the  world !  I  will 
try  and  reconcile  myself  to  any  change,  for  your  sake  1" 

"  Shall  I  go  first,  and  leave  you  with  your  mother  until  I  have 
arranged  matters  in  Canada  ?" 

"  Such  a  separation  would  be  worse  than  death  1  I  would 
rather  encounter  a  thousand  dangers,  than  remain  in  England  with- 
out you  I    If  it  must  be,  I  will  never  say  another  word  against  it !" 

Here  followed  a  heavy  sigh.  The  young  husband  kissed  the 
tears  from  her  cheek,  and  whispered — 

"  That  she  was  his  dear,  good  girl." 

And  Flora  would  have  followed  him  to  the  deserts  of  Arabia. 

"  I  have  had  a  long  conversation  with  a  very  sensible,  practical 
man,"  continued  Lyndsay,  "  who  has  lately  come  to  England  upon 
colonial  business.  He  has  been  a  settler  for  some  years  in  Canada, 
and  the  accounts  he  has  given  me  of  the  colony  are  so  favorable, 
and  hold  out  such  encouragement  of  ultimate  success  and  independ* 
cnce,  that  they  have  decided  me  in  my  choice  of  making  a  trial  of 
the  backwoods.  I  promised  to  meet  him  this  morning  at  the 
Crown  Inn — where  he  puts  up — to  look  over  maps  and  plans,  and 
have  some  further  talk  upon  the  subject.  I  thought,  dear,  that  it 
was  better  for  me  to  consult  you  upon  the  matter  before  I  to'i  any 
decided  steps.  You  have  borne  the  ill  news  better  than  I  expected ; 
BO  keep  up  your  spirits  until  I  return,  which  will  not  be  long." 


FLORA    LTN'DSAY. 


Flora  remained  in  dwp  thought  for  aomc  time  after  the  door  had 
closed  upon  her  husband.  She  could  now  recall  every  word  of  that 
eventful  conversation,  which  they  had  held  together  the  morning 
before  their  marriage,  upon  tlie  subject  of  emigration.  In  tlio 
happy  prospect  of  becoming  his  wife,  it  had  not  then  appeared  to 
hor  so  terrible. 

Faithfully  had  he  remindinl  her  of  the  trials  she  must  eXjXJct  to 
encounter,  in  uniting  her  destiny  to  a  poor  gentleman,  and  had 
pointed  out  emigration  as  the  only  remedy  for  counteracting  the 
imprudence  of  such  a  step ;  and  Flora,  full  of  love  and  faith,  was 
not  hard  to  be  persuaded.  She  considered  that  to  be  his  wife, 
endowed  as  he  was  by  nature  with  so  many  moral  and  intellectual 
qualities,  with  a  fine  face  and  noble  form,  would  make  her  the  .  .  K- 
est  woman  in  the  world ;  that  there  was  in  him  a  mine  of  mental 
wealth,  which  could  never  decrease,  but  which  time  and  experience 
would  augment,  and  come  what  might,  she  in  the  end  wa?  nre  to 
be  the  gainer.  j*. 

She  argued  thu.. :  -  •  Did  I  marry  a  man  whom  I  could  not  ^  )yo, 
merely  for  his  property,  and  the  position  he  held  in  society?  mis- 
fortune migiit  deprive  him  of  these,  and  a  disagreeable  companion 
for  life  would  remain  to  remind  me  constantly  of  my  choice.  But 
a  generous,  talented  man  like  Lyndsay,  by  industry  and  prudence 
may  become  rich,  and  then  the  most  avaricious  worlding  would 
applaud  the  step  I  had  taken." 

We  think  after  all,  that  Flora  reasoned  wisely,  and,  acting  up  to 
her  convictions,  did  right.  The  world,  we  know,  would  scarcely 
agree  with  us ;  but  in  matters  of  the  heart,  the  world  is  rarely  con- 
sulted. 

They  were  married,  and,  retiring  to  a  pretty  cottage  upon  the 
sea-coast,  confined  their  expenditure  to  their  limited  means,  and 
were  contented  and  happy,  and  so  much  in  love  with  each  other 
and  their  humble  lot,  that  up  to  this  period,  all  thoughts  upon  the 
dreaded  subject  of  emigration  had  been  banished  from  one  mind,  at 
least.  Flora  knew  her  husband  too  well  to  suspect  him  of  changing 
a  resolution  he  had  once  formed  on  the  suggestion  of  duty.  She 
felt,  too,  that  he  was  right ;  that  painful  as  the  struggle  was,  to  part 
with  all  dear  to  her  on  earth,  save  him,  that  it  must  be  made. 
"  Yes,  I  can,  and  will  dare  all  things,  my  beloved  husband,  for 
your  sake,"  she  said.  "  My  heart  may  at  times  rebel,  but  I  will 
shut  out  all  its  weak  (xmiplainings.    I  am  ready  to  follow  yoa 

1* 


"f 


I 


i  ; 

\  i 


nU 


■ 
I 
I 

n 

il 

H 
U 


10 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


throngh  good  and  ill — to  toil  for  our  future  maintenance,  or  live  at 
ease.  England — my  country  1  the  worst  trial  will  be  to  part  from 
you  1" 


CHAPTER   II. 


TUB     OLD     CAPTAIN. 


Flora's  reveries  were  abruptly  dispelled  by  a  gentle  knock  at 
the  door ;  and  her  "  Come  in,"  was  answered  by  a  tall,  portly, 
handsome  old  lady,  who  sailed  into  the  room  in  all  the  conscious 
dignity  of  black  silk  and  white  lawn. 

The  handsome  old  lady  was  Mrs.  Kitson,  the  wife  of  the  naval 
officer,  whose  ready-furnished  lodgings  they  had  occupied  for  the 
last  year.  Flora  rose  to  meet  her  visitor,  with  the  baby  still  upon 
her  arm. 

"Mrs.  Kitson,  I  am  happy  to  see  you.  Pray  take  the  easy- 
chair  by  the  fire.    I  hope  your  cough  is  better  ?"      ^     /     r 

"  No  chance  of  that,"  said  the  healthy  old  lady,  who  had  never 
known  a  fit  of  dangerous  illness  in  her  life,  "  while  I  continue  so 
weak.  Hu — hu — hul  You  see,  my  dear,  that  it  is  as  bad  as 
ever." 

Flora  thought  that  she  never  had  seen  a  person  at  Mrs.  Kitson's 
advanced  stage  of  life  with  such  a  healthy,  rosy  viaige.  But 
every  one  has  some  pet  weakness.  Mrs.  Kitson's  was  always 
fancying  herself  ill  and  nervous.  Now,  Flora  had  no  very  benig- 
nant feelings  towards  the  old  lady's  long  cot".logue  of  imaginary 
ailments ;  so  she  changed  the  dreaded  subject,  by  inquiring  after 
the  health  of  the  old  Captain,  her  husband. 

"  Ah,  my  dear,  he's  just  as  well  as  ever — nothing  in  the  world 
ever  ails  him;  and  little  he  cares  for  the  suiferings  of  another. 
This  is  a  great  day  with  him ;  he's  all  bustle  and  fuss.  Just  step 
to  the  window,  and  look  at  his  doings.  It's  enough  to  drive  a  sen- 
sible woman  mad.  Ta,lk  of  women  wearing  the  smalls,  indeed !  it's 
a  base  libel  on  the  sex.  Captain  Kitson  is  not  content  with  put- 
ting on  my  apron,  but  he  appropriates  my  petticoats  also.  T  can- 
not give  an  order  to  my  maid,  but  he  contradicts  it,  or  buy 
a  pound  of  tea,  but  he  weighs  it  after  the  grocer.  Now,  my  dear, 
tehat  would  you  do  if  the  Lea/tenant  was  like  my  husband?" 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


11 


••  Really,  I  don't  know,"  and  Flora  langlicd  heartily.  "  It  must 
be  rather  a  trial  of  patience  to  a  good  housekeeper  like  you.  Bat 
^vhat  is  he  about  ?"  she  cried,  stepping  to  the  window  that  over- 
looked a  pretty  lawn  in  front  of  the  house,  whick  commanded  a  fine 
yievf  of  the  sea,  "  He  and  old  Kelly  seem  up  to  their  eyes  in  busi- 
ness. What  an  assemblage  of  pots  and  kettles,  and  household 
stuff,  there  is  upon  the  lawn!    Are  you  goiiig  to  have  an  auction  ?" 

"  You  may  well  think  so ;  if  that  were  the  case,  there  might  bo 
some  excuse  for  his  folly.     No ;  all  this  dirt  and  confusion,  which 

once  a  week  drives  me  nearly  beside  myself,  is  wliat  K calls 

clearing  up  the  ship ;  when  he  and  his  man  Friday,  as  he  calls 
Kelly,  turn  every t]|jing  topsy-turvy ;  and,  to  make  the  muddle  more 
complete,  they  always  chose  my  washing-day  for  their  frolic.  Pan- 
tfios  and  cellars  are  rummaged  over,  and  everything  is  dragged  out 
of  its  place,  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  making  a  litter,  and  dragging 
it  in  again. 

"  Look  at  the  lawn !  covered  with  broken  dishes,  earless  jugs, 
cracked  plates,  and  bottomless  saucepans,"  continued  Mrs.  Kitson- 
*'  What  a. dish  of  nuts  for  my  neighbors  to  crack !  They  always 
oujoy  a  hearty  laugh  at  my  expense,  on  Kitsou's  clearing-up  days. 
But  what  does  he  care  for  my  distress  ?  In  vain  I  hide  up  all  this 
old  trumpery  in  the  darkest  nooks  in  the  cellar  and  pantry — 
nothing  escapes  his  prying  eyes  ;  and  thou  he  has  such  a  memory, 
that  if  he  misses  an  old  gallipot  he  raises  a  storm  loud  enough  to 
shake  down  the  house. 

"  The  last  time  he  went  to  London,"  pursued  the  old  lady,  "  I 
collected  a  vast  quantity  of  useless  trash,  and  had  it  thrown  into 
the  pond  behind  the  house.  Well,  when  he  cleared  the  decks  next 
time,  if  he  did  not  miss  the  old  broken  crockery,  all  of  which,  he 
said,  he  meant  to  mend  with  white  lead  on  rainy  days;  whil'^  the 
broken  bottles,  forsooth,  he  had  saved  to  put  on  the  top  of  the  brick 
wall,  to  hinder  the  little  boys  fron^  climbing  over  to  steal  tho 
apples !  Oh,  dear,  dear,  dear !  there  was  no  end  to  his  bawling, 
and  swearing,  and  calling  me  hard  names,  while  he  had  the  impu- 
dence to  tell  Kelly,  in  my  hearing,  that  I  was  the  most  extravagant 
woman  in  the*  world.  Now,  I,  that  have  borne  him  seventeen 
children,  should  know  something  about  economy  and  good  manage- 
ment ;  but  he  gives  me  no  credit  at  all  for  that.  He  began  scold- 
ing again,  to-day,  but  my  poor  head  could  not  stand  it  any  longer ; 
80  I  came  over  to  spend  a  few  minutes  with  you." 


FLORA    LVXDSAT. 


The  handsome  old  lady  paused  to  draw  breath,  and  looked  so 
much  excited  with  this  recapitulation  of  her  domestic  wrongs,  that 
Mrs.  Lyndsay  thought  it  not  improbable  blw  had  performed  her 
own  part  in  the  scolding. 

As  to  Flora,  she  wa^  highly  amused  by  the  old  Captain's  vaga- 
ries. "  By-the-bye,"  she  said,  "  had  he  any  luck  in  shooting,  this 
morning?     He  was  out  by  sunrise  with  his  gun." 

The  old  lady  fell  back  in  her  chair,  and  laughed  immoderately. 

"  Shooting !  Yes,  yes,  that  was  another  frolic  of  his.  But  Kit- 
Bon's  an  old  fool,  and  I  have  told  him  so  a  thousand  times.  So 
you  saw  him  this  morning  with  the  gun  ?"  ,^4  ^ 

"  Why,  I  was  afraid  he  might  shoot  Lyndsay,  who  was  shaving 
at  the  window.  The  Captain  pointed  his  gifh  sometimes  at  the 
window,  and  sometimes  at  the  eaves  of  the  house,  but  as  the  gun 
always  missed  fire,  I  began  to  regain  my  courage,  and  so  did  the 
sparrows,  for  they  only  chattered  at  him  in  defiance." 

"  And  well  they  might.  Why,  my  dear,  would  you  believe  it, 
he  had  no  powder  in  his  gun  !  Now,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  you  will  per- 
haps thiak  that  I  uni  telling  you  a  story,  the  thing  is  so  absurd  ; 
yet  I  assure  you  that  it's  strictly  true.  But  you  know  the  man. 
When  my  poor  Xelly  died,  she  loft  all  her  little  property  to  her 
father,  as  she  knew  none  of  her  late  husband's  relations — never  was 
introduced  to  one  of  them  in  her  life.  In  her  dressing-case  he 
found  a  box  of  charcoal  for  cleaning  teeth,  and  in  spite  of  all  that  T 
could  say  or  do,  he  insisted  that  it  was  gunpowder.  *  Gunpowder !' 
says  I,  '  what  would  our  Nelly  do  with  gunpowder?  It's  charcoal, 
I  tell  you.' 

"  Then  he  smelt  it,  and  smelt  it — '  'Tis  gunpowder,  Sally !  Don't 
you  think  that  i  know  the  smell  of  guapowder?  I,  that  was  with 
Nelson  at  Copenhagen  and  Trafalgar?' 

'' '  'Tis  the  snuff  in  your  nose,  that  makes  everything  smell  alike  ;' 
says  I.  "  Do  you  think  that  our  Nelly  would  clean  her  beautiful 
white  teeth  with  gunpowder  ?' 

'"  Why  not?'  says  he;  *  there's  charcoal  in  gunpowder.  And 
now.  Madam,  if  you  dare  to  contradict  me  agaiii,  I  will  shoot  you 
with  it,  to  prove  the  truth  of  what  I  say  !'  « 

"  Well,  after  that,  I  held  my  tongue,  though  I  did  not  choose  to 
give  up.  I  thought  to  spite  him,  so  for  once  I  let  him  have  hia 
own  way.  He  spent  an  hour  last  night  cleaning  his  old  rusty  gun  ; 
and  rose  this  morning  by  daybreak  with  tlie  intention  of  mui'dering 


♦n»* 


so 


FLORA    I.YXDSAY. 


all  the  sparrows.  No  wonder  that  the  sparrows  langhed  at  him. 
I  have  (loi)e  nothing  but  laugh  ever  since — so  out  of  sheer  rcvenge> 
Uc  proclaimed  a  cleaning  day ;  and  he  and  Kelly  arc  now  hard 
at  it." 

Flora  was  delighted  with  this  anecdote  of  their  whimsical  land- 
lord ;  but  before  she  could  answer  his  better-half,  the  door  was  sud- 
denly opened,  and  the  sharp,  lieea  face  of  the  little  officer  was 
thrust  into  the  room. 


CHAPTER   III. 


o 
s 


THE  OLD  CAPTAIN  IN  PERSON. 

"  Mrs.  Lyxdsay,  my  dear  ;  that  nurse  of  yours  is  going  to  hang 
oat  your  clothes  in  front  of  the  sea.  Now,  it's  hardly  decent  of 
her  to  expose  female  garments  to  every  boat  that  may  be  passing." 

The  Captain's  delicacy  threw  poor  Flora  nearly  into  convul- 
sions of  Ii  'ighter — while  he  continued,  rather  pettishly — 

"  She  knows  no  more  how  to  handle  a  rope  than  a  pig.  If  you 
will  just  tell  her  to  wait  a  bit,  until  I  have  overhauled  my  vcosel, 
I  will  put  up  the  ropes  for  you  myself." 

"  And  hang  out  the  clothes  for  you,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  if  you  will 
only  give  him  the  treat — and  then,  he  will  not  shock  the  sensitive 
nerves  of  the  sailors,  by  hanging  them  near  the  sea,"  sneered  the 
handsome  old  lady. 

"  I  hate  to  see  things  done  in  a  lubberly  manner,"  muttered  the 
old  tar. 

"  Oh,  pray  oblige  him,  Mrs.  Lyndsay.  He  is  such  an  old 
woman.  I  wonder  ho  does  not  ask  your  permission  to  let  him 
wash  the  clothes." 

"  Fresh  water  is  not  my  element,  Mrs.  ^'litson,  though  I  have 
long  known,  that  hot  water  is  yours.  I  never  suffer  a  woman  ''o 
touch  my  ropes,  and  Mrs.  Lyndsay   borrowed  those  ropes  this 

morning  of  me.    Don't  interrupt  me,  Mrs.  K ;  attend  to  your 

business  and  leave  me  to  mine.  Put  a  stopper  upon  that  clapper 
of  yours ;  which  goes  at  the  rate  of  ten  knots  an  hour — or  look  out 
for  squalls." 

In  the  hope  of  averting  the  storm,  which  Flora  saw  was  gather- 
ing ou  the  old  m&Q's  brow,  and  which  in  all  probability,  had  been 


u 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


brewing  all  the  morning,  she  assured  the  Captain,  that  he  might 
take  the  command  of  her  nui-se,  ropes,  clothes,  and  all. 

"Mrs.  Lyndsay, — you  are  a  sensible  woman, — which  is  more 
than  I  can  say  of  some  folks,"  glancing  at  his  wife  ;  "  and  I  hope 
that  you  mean  to  submit  patiently  to  the  yoke  of  matrimony ;  and 
not  pull  one  way  while  your  husband  pulls  the  other.  To  sail  well 
together  on  the  sea  of  life,  you  miist  hold  fast  to  the  right  end  of 
the  rope  and  haul  in  the  same  direction." 

His  hand  was  i^on  the  lock  of  the  door,  and  the  old  lady  had 
made  herself  sure  of  his  exit,  and  was  comfortably  settling  herself 
for  a  fresh  spell  of  gossip  at  his  expense,  when  he  suddenly  returned 
to  the  sofa  on  which  Flora  was  seated  ;  and  putting  his  mouth 
quite  close  to  her  ear,  while  his  little  inquisitive  grey  eyes  sparkled 
with  intense  curiosity,  said,  in  a  mysterious  whisper,  "  How  is  this, 
my  dear — I  hear  that  you  are  going  to  leave  us  ?" 

Flora  started  with  surprise.  Not  a  word  had  transpired  of  the 
conversation  she  had  lately  had  with  her  husband.  Did  the  old 
Captain  possess  the  gift  of  second-sight  ?  "  Captain  Kitson,"  she 
said,  in  rather  an  excited  tone ;  while  the  color  flushed  up  into 
her  face,  "  who  told  you  so  ?" 

"  Then  it  is  true  ?"  and  the  old  fox  rubbed  his  hands  and  nodded 
his  head,  at  the  success  of  his  stratagem.  "  Who  told  me  ? — why, 
I  can't  say,  who  told  me.  You  know,  where  there  are  servants 
living  in  the  house,  and  walls  arc  tbin — news  travels  fast." 

"  And  when  people  have  sharp  ears  to  listen  to  what  is  passing 
in  their  neighbors'  houses,"  muttered  the  old  lady,  in  a  provoking 
aside,  "  news  travels  faster  still." 

Flora  was  annoyed  beyond  measure  at  the  impertinent  curiosity 
of  the  inquisitive  old  man.  She  felt  certain  that  her  conversation 
with  her  husband  had  been  overheard.  She  know  that  Captain 
Kitson  and  his  wife  were  notable  gossips,  and  it  was  movtifying  to 
know  that  their  secret  plans  in  a  few  hours  would  be  made  public. 
She  replied  coldly,  "  Captain  Kitson,  you  have  been  misinformed ; 
we  may  have  talked  over  such  a  thing  in  private  as  a  matter  of 
speculation,  but  nothing  at  present  has  been  determined." 

"  Now,  my  dear,  that  won't  do ;  leave  an  old  sailor  to  find  out  a 
rat.  I  tell  you  that  'tis  the  common  report  of  the  day.  Besi'  3s, 
is  not  the  Lea/tenant  gone  this  morning  with  that  scapegrace,  Tom 
W ,  to  hear  some  lying  land-shark  preach  about  Canada." 

"  X<ecturel  Kitson,"  aaid  the  old  lady,  who  was  not  a  whit  be- 


m 


FLORA     LYXDSAY. 


%$ 


' » 


hind  her  spouse  in  wishing  to  extract  the  news,  though  she  suflfered 
him  to  be  the  active  agent  in  the  matter. 

"  Lecture  or  preach,  it's  all  one  ;  only  the  parson  takes  his  text 
from  the  Bible  to  hold  forth  upon,  and  these  agents,  employed  by 
the  Canada  Company,  say  what  they  can  out  of  their  own  heads. 
The  object  in  both  is  to  make  money.  I  thought  the  Leaf  tenant 
had  been  too  long  in  a  colony  to  be  caught  by  chaflf."  * 

"  My  husband  can  judge  for  himself.  Captain  Kitson.  He  doea 
not  need  the  advice,  or  the  interference  of  a  third  person,"  said 
Flora,  coloring  again.  And  this  time  she  felt  really  angry ;  but 
there  was  no  shaking  the  old  man  off. 

"  To  be  sure — to  be  sure,"  said  her  tormentor,  without  taking 
the  smallest  notice  of  her  displeasure  ;  "  people  are  all  wise  in  their 
own  eyes.  But  what  is  Canada  to  you,  my  dear  ?  A  fine  settler's 
wife  you  will  make  ;  nervous  and  delicate,  half  the  time  confined 
to  your  bed  with  some  complaint  or  other.  And  then,  when  you 
are  well,  the  whole  blessed  day  is  wasted  in  reading  and  writing, 
and  coddling  up  the  baby.  I  tell  you,  that  sort  of  biisiness  will  not 
answer  in  a  rough  country  lite  Canada.  I  was  there  often  enough 
during  the  American  war,  and  I  know  that  the  country  won't  suit 
you, — no,  nor  you  won't  suit  the  country." 

Finding  that  Mrs.  Lyndsay  made  no  answer  to  this  burst  of  elo- 
quence, he  continued,  in  a  coaxing  tone — 

"  Now,  just  for  once  in  your  life,  my  dear,  be  guided  by  older 
and  wiser  heads  than  your  own,  and  give  up  this  foolish  project 
altogether.  Let  well  alone.  You  are  h^py  and  comfortable 
where  you  are.  This  is  a  nice  cottage,  quite  large  enough  for 
your  small  family.  Fine  view  of  the  sea  from  these  front  windows, 
and  all  ready  furnished  to  your  hand — nothing  to  find  of  your  own 
but  plate  and  linen  ;  a  pump,  wood-house  and  coal-bison,  and  other 
conveniences, — ail  under  one  roof.    An  oven — " 

"  Stop,"  cried  the  old  lady,  "  you  need  say  nothing  about  that, 
Kitson.  The  oven  is  good  for  nothing.  It  has  no  draught ;  and 
you  cannot  put  a  firt  into  it  without  filling  the  house  with  smoke." 

"  Pshaw !"  muttered  the  old  man.  "  A  little  contrivance  would 
soon  put  that  to  rights." 

"  I  tried  my  best,"  retorted  the  wife,  "  and  I  could  never  bake  a 
loaf  of  bread  in  it,  fit  to  eat." 

"  We  all  know  what  bad  bread  you  make,  Mrs.  Kitson,"  said 
the  Captain.    "I  know  that  it  can  be  baked  in;  so  hold  your 


.-^ 


. 


4 


16 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


tongue,  Madam!  and  don't  contradict  me  again.  At  any  rate, 
there's  not  a  smoky  chimney  in  the  house,  which,  after  all,  is  a  less 
evil  than  a  cross  wife.  The  house,  I  say,  is  complete  from  the 
cellar  to  the  garret.  And  then,  the  rent — why,  what  is  it  ?  A 
mere  trifle — too  cheap  by  one  half — only  twenty-five  pounds  per 
annum.  I  don't  know  what  possessed  me,  to  let  it  so  low ;  and 
then,  my  dear,  the  privilege  you  enjoy  in  my  beautiful  flower-garden 
and  lawn.  There  is  not  many  lodging-houses  in  town  could  offer 
such  advantages,  and  all  for  the  paltry  consideration  of  twenty- 
five  pounds  a-year." 

"  The  cottage  is  pretty,  and  the  rent  moderate.  Captain,"  said 
Flora.  "  We  have  no  fault  to  find,  and  you  have  not  found  us 
difficult  to  please." 

"  Oh,  I  Q.\\\  quite  contented  with  my  tenants ;  I  Ouly  want  them 
to  know  when  they  are  well  ofl".  Look  twice  before  you  leap  once, 
that's  my  maxim  ;  and  give  up  this  mad  Canadian  project,  which  I 
am  coM'tain  will  end  in  disappointment." 

And  with  tjiis  i)iece  of  disinterested  advice,  away  toddled  our 
gallant  naval  comnmnder,  to  finish  with  Kelly  the  arrangement  of 
his  pots  and  kettles,  aiid  superintend  the  right  adjustment  of  the 
clothes-lines,  and  the  hanging  out  of  Mrs.  Lyndsay's  clothes. 

Do  not  imagine,  gentle  reader,  that  this  picture  is  over-charged. 
Captain  Kitson  is  no  creature  of  romance,  (or  was  not,  we  should 
rather  say ;  for  he  has  long  since  been  gathered  to  his  fathers)  ; 
but  a  brave,  uneducated  man.  who,  during  the  war,  had  risen  from 
before  the  mast  to  the  rank  of  Post  Captain.  He  had  fought  at 
Copenhagen  and  Trafalgar,  and  distinguished  himself  in  many  a 
severe  contest  on  the  main  during  those  stirring  times,  and  bore  the 
reputation  of  a  dashing  naval  officer.  At  the  advanced  age  of 
eighty,  he  retained  all  his  original  ignorance  and  vulgarity  ;  and 
Wiis  never  admitted  into  the  society  which  his  rank  in  the  service 
entitled  him  to  claim. 

The  restless  activity  which  in  the  vigor  of  manhood  had  rendered 
him  a  useful  and  enterprising  seaman,  was  now  displayed  in  the 
most  ridiculous  interference  in  his  own  domestic  affairs,  and  those 
of  his  neighbors.  With  a  great  deal  of  low  cunning,  he  mingled 
the  most  insatiable  curiosity ;  while  his  habits  were  so  penurious, 
that  he  would  stoop  to  any  meanness  to  gain  a  trifling  pecuniary 
advantage  for  himself  or  his  family. 

He  speculated  largely  in  old  ropes,  condemned  boats  and  sea 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


Itl 


tackle  of  all  description,  whilst  as  consul  for  the  port,  he  had  many 
opportunities  of  purchasing  wrecks  of  the  sea,  and  the  damaged 
cargoes  of  foreign  vessels,  at  a  cheap  rate ;  and  not  a  stone  was 
left  unturned  by  old  Kitson,  if  by  the  turning  a  copper  could  be 
secured. 

The  meddling  disposition  of  the  old  Captain  rendered  him  the 
terror  of  all  the  fishermen  on  the  coast,  over  whom  his  sway  was 
despotic.  He  superintended  and  ordered  all  their  proceedings  with 
an  authority  as  absolute  as  though  he  were  still  upon  the  deck  of 
his  war-ship,  and  they  were  subjected  to  his  imperious  commands. 
Not  a  boat  could  be  put  off,  or  a  flag  hoisted,  without  he  was  duly 
consulted  and  apprised  of  the  fact.  Not  a  funeral  could  take  place 
in  the  town,  without  Kitson  calling  upon  the  bereaved  family,  and 
offering  his  services  on  the  mournful  occasion,  securing  to  himself 
by  this  simple  manoeuvre,  an  abundant  supply  of  black  silk  cravats 
and  kid  gloves. 

" Never  lose  anything,  my  dear,  for  the  want  of  asking"  he 
would  say.  "  A  refusal  breaks  no  bones,  and  there  is  always  a 
chance  of  getting  what  you  ask." 

Acting  upon  this  principle,  he  had  begged  favors  of  all  the  great 
men  in  power;  and  had  solicited  the  interest  of  every  influential 
person  who  had  visited  the  town,  during  the  bathing  season,  for 
the  last  twenty  years,  on  his  behalf.  His  favorite  maxim,  practi- 
cally carried  out,  had  been  very  successful.  He  had  obtained,  for 
the  mere  trouble  of  asking,  commissions  in  the  army  and  navy  for 
all  his  sons,  and  had  got  all  his  grandsons  comfortably  placed  in 
the  Greenwich  or  Christ  Church  schools. 

He  had  a  garden,  too,  which  was  at  once  his  torment  and  his 
pride.  During  the  spring  and  summer  months,  the  beds  were  dug 
up  and  remodeled,  three  or  four  times  during  the  season,  to  suit 
the  caprice  of  the  owner,  while  the  poor  drooping  flowers  were 
ranged  along  the  grass-plot  to  wither  in  the  sun  during  the  process, 
and 

"  Waste  their  aweetnesa  on  the  desert  air." 

This  he  termed  putting  his  borders  into  ship-shape. 

The  flower-beds  which  skirted  the  lawn,  a  pretty  grass  plot  con- 
taining about  an  acre  of  ground,  surrounded  by  tall  poplar  trees, 
were  regularly  sown  with  a  succession  of  annuals,  all  for  the  time 
being  of  one  sort  and  color.  For  several  weeks,  innumerable 
quantities  of  double  crimson  stocks  flaunted  before  your  eyes,  so 


18 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


! 


densely  packed,  that  scarcely  a  shade  of  green  relieved  the  brilliant 
monotony.  These  were  succeeded  by  larkspurs,  and  lastly  by  pop- 
pies, that  reared  their  tall,  gorgeous  heads  above  the  low,  white 
railing,  and  looked  defiance  on  all  beholders. 

Year  after  year  presented  the  same  spectacle,  and  pounds  of 
stocks,  larkspur,  and  poppy  seeds  were  annually  saved  by  the 
eccentric  old  man  to  renew  his  floral  show. 

Tom  W ,  who  was  enchanted  with  the  Captain's  oddities, 

had  nick-named  the  marine  cottage  Larkspur  Lodge. 


S 


CHAPTER   IV. 

'    •  '       •  A  VISIT  OF   CONDOLENCE. 

Thr  news  of  Lieutenant  Lindsey's  intended  emigration  spread 
like  wild-fire  through  the  village,  and  for  several  days  formed  the 
theme  of  conversation.  The  timid  shrugged  their  shoulders,  and 
drew  closer  to  their  own  cosy  fire-sides,  and  preferred  staying  at 
home  to  tempting  the  dangers  of  a  long  sea-voyage.  The  prudent 
said,  there  was  a  possibilit'i  of  success;  but  it  was  better  to  take 
care  of  tne  little  you  had,  than  run  the  risk  of  losing  it  while  seek- 
ing for  more.  The  worldly  sneered  and  criticised,  and  turned  the 
golden  anticipations  of  the  hopeful  and  the  benevolent  into  ridicule, 
prophesying  disappointment,  ruin,  and  a  speedy  return.  Lyndsay 
listened  to  all  their  remarks,  endeavored  to  combat  unreasonable 
objections,  and  removed  preconceived  prejudices;  but  as  it  was 
all  labor  thrown  away,  he  determined  to  abide  by  the  resolution 
he  had  formed,  and  commenced  making  preparations  accordingly. 

Flora,  who,  like  many  of  her  sex,  was  more  guided  by  her  feel- 
ings than  her  reason,  was  terribly  annoyed  by  the  impertinent  inter- 
ference of  others,  in  what  she  peculiarly  considered  her  own  afifairs. 
Day  after  day  she  was  tormented  by  visitors,  who  came  to  condole 
with  her  on  the  shocking  prospects  before  her.  Some  of  these  were 
kind,  well-meaning  people,  who  really  thought  it  a  dreadful  thing, 
to  be  forced,  at  the  caprice  of  a  husband,  to  leave  home,  and  all  its 
kindred  joys,  for  a  rude,  uncultivated  wilderness  like  Canada.  To 
such  Flora  listened  with  patience ;  for  she  believed  their  fears  on 
her  account  were  genuine— their  sympathies  sincere. 


FLORA    LTND8AT. 


19 


There  was  dnly  one  person  in  the  whole  town  whose  comments 
she  dreaded,  and  whose  pretended  concern  sh^  looked  upon  as  a 
real  bore — this  was  Mra.  Beady,  the  wife  of  a  wealthy  merchant, 
who  was  apt  to  consider  herself  the  great  lady  of  the  place. 

The  dreaded  interview  came  at  last.  Mrs.  Ready  bad  been 
absent  on  a  visit  to  Londcm ;  and  the  moment  she  heard  of  the 
intended  emigration  of  the  Lyndsays  to  Canada,  she  put  on  her 
bonnet  and  shawl,  and  rushed  to  the  rescue.  The  lond,  double  rat- 
tat-tat  at  the  door,  announced  an  arrival  of  more  than  ordinary 
consequence. 

"  0 !"  siglicd  Flora,  pushing  away  her  desk,  at  which  she  was 
writing  letters  of  importance,  "I  know  that  knock! — that  dis- 
agreeable Mrs.  Ready  is  come  at  last  I" 

Before  Mrs.  Ready  enters  the  room,  I  may  as  well  explain  to  the 
reader  what  sort  of  an  intimacy  existed  between  Flora  Lyndsay 
and  Harriet  Ready,  and  why  the  former  had  such  a  repugnance  to 
a  visit  from  the  last-mentioned  lady. 

Without  the  aid  of  animal  magnetism  (although  we  have  no 
doubt  that  it  belongs  to  that  mysterious  science)  experience  has 
taught  us  all,  that  there  are  some  natures  that  possess  certain  repel- 
lant  qualitie"^,  which  never  can  be  brought  into  aCBnity  with  our 
own — persons,  whom  we  like  or  dislike  at  first  sight,  with  a  strong 
predilection  for  the  one  almost  amounting  to  love,  with  a  decided 
aversion  to  the  other,  which  in  some  instances  almost  merges  into 
downright  hate. 

These  two  ladies  had  no  attraction  for  each  other ;  they  had  not 
a  thought  or  feeling  in  common ;  and  they  seldom  met  without  a 
certain  sparring,  which,  to  the  looker-on,  must  have  betrayed 
how  matters  stood  between  them. 

But  why  did  they  meet,  if  such  were  the  case? 

It  would  be  true  wisdom  in  ail  such  repellant  natures  to  keep 
apart.  Worldly  prudence,  and  the  conventional  rules  of  society, 
compel  persons  to  hide  these  secret  antipathies — nay,  even  to  pre- 
sent the  most  smiling  exterior  to  those  whom  they  often  least 
respect. 

The  fear  of  making  enemies,  of  being  thought  ill-natured  and 
capricious,  or  even  of  making  the  objects  of  their  aversion  persons 
of  too  much  consequence,  by  keeping  them  aloof,  are  some  of  the 
reasons  we  have  heard  allied  for  these  acts  of  mental  cowardice. 

Mrs.  Ready  was  a  low-born  woman,  and  Flora  belonged  to  a 


1} 


19  FLORA    LYND3AY. 

very  old  and  respectable  family.  M»s.  Ready  wished  to  rise  a  step 
higher  in  the  social  scale,  and,  thinking  Flora  might  aid  her 
ambitious  views,  she  had,  after  the  first  calls  of  ceremony  had  boon 
exchanged,  clang  to  her  with  a  pertinacity  which  all  Mrs.  Lynd- 
Bay's  efforts  to  free  herself  had  been  unable  to  shake  off. 

Mrs.  Ready  was  a  woman  of  great  pretensions,  and  had  acquired 
an  influence  among  her  own  set  by  assuming  a  superiority  to  which, 
in  reality,  she  had  not  the  slightest  claim.  She  considere<l  herself 
a  beauty — a  wit — a  person  of  extraordinary  genius,  and  possessed 
of  great  literary  taste.  The  knowledge  of  a  few  botanical  namea 
and  scientific  terms,  which  she  sportetl  on  all  occasions,  had  con- 
ferred upon  her  the  title  of  a  learned  woman ;  while  she  talked  with 
the  greatest  confidence  of  her  acquirements.  Her  paintings — her 
music — her  poetry,  were  words  constantly  in  her  mouth.  A  few 
wretched  daubs,  some  miserable  attempts  at  composition,  and 
various  pieces  of  music,  played  without  taste,  and  in  shocking  bad 
time,  constituted  all  her  claims  to  literary  distinction.  '  Her  confi- 
dent boasting  had  so  imposed  upon  the  good,  credulous  people 
among  whom  she  movc.l,  that  they  really  believed  hpr  to  be  the 
talented  being  she  pretended. 

A  person  of  very  moddrate  abilities  can  be  spiteful ;  and  Mrs. 
Ready  was  so  censorious,  and  said,  when  offended,  such  bitter  things, 
that  her  neighbors  tolerated  her  impertinence  out  of  a  weak  fear, 
lest  they  might  become  the  victims  of  her  slanderous  tongue. 

Though  living  in  the.  same  house  with  her  husband,  whose  third 
wife  she  was,  they  had  long  been  separated,  only  meeting  at  their 
joyless  meals.  Mrs.  Ready  considered  her  husbaud  a  very  stupid 
animal,  and  did  not  fail  to  make  both  him  and  her  friends 
acquainted  with  her  opinion. 

"  There  is  a  fate  in  these  things,"  she  observed,  "  or  you  would 
never  see  a  person  of  wjt/  superior  intellect  united  to  a  creature  like 
thaL'' 

The  world  recognised  a  less  important  agency  in  the  ill-starred 
union.  Mrs.  Ready  was  poor,  and  had  already  numbered  thirty 
years,  when  she  accepted  the  hand  of  her  wealthy  and  despised 
partnei . 

No  wonder  that  Flora,  who  almost  adored  her  husband,  and  wag 
a  woman  of  simple  habits  and  pretensions,  should  dislike  Mrs. 
Ready ;  it  would  have  been  strange,  indeed,  if  persons  so  differently 
Bonstituted,  could  have  met  without  antagonism. 


-FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


21 


rrod 


Mrs.  Ready's  harsh,  unfeminine  voice  and  manuers ;  her  assami> 
tion  of  learning  and  superiority,  without  any  real  title  to  either, 
were  very  oflensive  to  a  proud,  sensitive  mind,  whiehtrt^jected  with 
disdain  the  patronage  of  such  a  woman.  Flora  had  too  much  self- 
respect,  not  to  say  vanity,  to  tolerate  the  insolence  of  Mrs.  Iteady. 
She  had  met  all  her  advance?  towards  a  closer  intimacy  with 
marked  coldness ;  which,  instead  of  repelling,  seemed  only  to  pro- 
voke a  repetition  of  the  vulgar,  forcing  familiarity,  from  which  she 
intuitively  shrank. 

"  Alrd.  Lyudsay,"  she  was  wont  to  say,  wbcA  that  lady  was 
abt5etit,  "  is  a  young  person  of  some  literary  tcote,  and  with  the 
advise  and  assistance  of  a  friend  (herself  of  cop.;^>)  she  may  one  day 
become  an  accomplished  woman. 

Lyndsay  was  highly  amused  at  the  league,  offensive  and  defen- 
sive, carried  on  by  his  wife,  and  Mrs.  Ready,  who  was  the  only  blue 
stocking  in  the  place  ;  and  he  was  wont  to  call  her  Flora's  Mrs. 
Grundy. 

But  Mrs.  Grundy  is  already  in  the  room,  and  Flora  has  risen  to 
meet  her,  and  proffer  the  usual  meaningless  salutions  of  the  day. 
To  these'  her  visitor  returns  no  answer,  overwhelmed  as  she  is  with 
astonishment  and  grief. 

"Mrs.  Lyndsayl"  she  exclaimed,  sinking  into  the  easy  chair 
placed  for  her  accommodation,  and  lifting  up  her  hands  in  a  tragic 
ecstacy — "  Is  it  true — true,  that  you  are  going  to  leave  us  ?  I  can- 
not believe  it ;  it  is  so  absurd — so  ridiculous— the  idea  of  your 
going  to  Canada.  Do  tell  me  that  I  am  misinformed  ;  that  it  is 
one  of  old  Kitson's  idle  pieces  of  gossip  ;  for  really  I  have  not  bcxiu 
well  since  I  heard  it." 

Mrs.  Ready  paused  for  breath,  and  applied  her  handkerchief  to 
lier  eyes. 

Flora  remained  silent  and  embarrassed.  What  could  she  say  ? 
She  placed  no  confidence  in  the  grief  of  the  weeping  lady,  and 
despised  the  affectation  of  her  tears — till  she  gasped  forth — 

"  Do  not  leave  me  in  suspense  ;  I  would  rather  hear  the  truth  at 
once.    Are  you  really  going  to  Canada  ?" 

"  I  believe  so.  That  is,  if  no  ontoward  circumstance  arise  to 
prevent  it." 

'•  Good  heavens !  And  you  can  regard  such  a  dreadful  event  with 
such  stoical  indifference?  Why  does  not  your  mother  exert  her 
authority,  to  make  you  give  up  such  a  mad  project  ?" 


V 


I 


«l 


FLORA    LYND3AT. 


f 


■ 


" My  motlicr  would  never  Interfere  with  my  husband's  wislios, 
particularly  when  she  considers  tlicm  reasonable,  and  knows  that 
no  real  objections  can  be  offered  on  the  subject." 

"  But  think  of  tlie  dreadful  sacrifice !" 

"  Such  sacrifices  are  made  every  day.     Emigration,  Mrs.  Ready, 
is  a  mattxir  of  necessity,  not  of  choice.     Mr.  Lyndsay  thinks  it 
ncccs.sary   for  us  to  take  this  step,  and  I  have  no  doubt   that 
he  is  right.    Did  I  consult  my  o^vn  feelings,  I  should  certainly  pre-, 
for  staying  at  home." 

"  Of  course  you  would,  and  you  affect  this  unconcern  on  purpose 
to  hide  an  aching  heart.  My  dear,  you  cannot  deceive  me ;  I  bco 
through  it  all.  I  pity  you,  my  sweet  friend  ;  I  sympathise  with 
you,  from  my  very  soul ;  I  know  what  your  real  ftelings  are ;  I 
can  realize  it  all." 

Flora  remained  silent.  She  certainly  did  wish  that  Mrs.  Ready 
occupied  any  other  place  in  the  United  Kingdom,  at  that  moment, 
than  the  conilbrtable  scat  in  her  easy  chair.  But  what  could  sho 
do  ?  She  could  not  inform  the  lady  that  she  was  tired  of  her  com- 
pany, and  wished  to  be  alone.  That  would  be  considered  an  act 
of  ill-breeding  of  the  most  flagrant  description  ;  in  common  cour- 
tesy she  was  compelled  to  act  a  lie. 

Rather  irritated  at  the  small  impression  her  eloquence  had  made 
npon  her  companion,  Mrs.  Ready  removed  tlie  cambric  screen  from 
her  face,  on  which  not  a  trace  of  grief  could  be  found,  and  clasping 
her  hands  vehemently  together,  conliimed — 

"  Your  husband  is  mad,  to  draw  you  away  from  all  your  friends 
at  a  moment's  warning !  I  would  remonstrate — I  would  not  go  ;  I 
would  exert  a  proper  spirit,  and  force  him  to  abandon  this  Quix- 
otic expedition.'  ' 

"You  speak  hastily,  Mrs.  Ready.  Why  slwuld  I  attempt  to 
prevent  an  undertaking  in  which  I  most  cordially  concur,  and 
which  Mr.  Lyndsay  thfnks  would  greatly  benefit  his  family  ?" 

"  Nonsense  1  I  hate,  I  repudiate  such  passive  obedience,  na 
beneath  the  dignity  of  woman !  I  am  none  of  your  soft  bread-and- 
butter  wives,  who  consider  it  their  dutif  to  become  the  mere  echo  of 
their  husbands.  If  /  did  not  wish  to  go,  no  tyrannical  lord  of  the 
creation,  falsely  so  called,  should  comj)el  me  so  act  against  my  incli- 
nations." 

"  Compulsion  is  not  necessary  :  on  this  subject  we  both  agree." 

"  Oh,  yes,  I  see  how  it  is  !"  with  a  contemptuous  curl  of  the  lip, 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


23 


"  yoo  aspire  to  the  character  of  a  good,  dutiful  wife, — to  become 
an  example  of  euduring  patience  to  all  the  refractory  coiijugals  in 
the  place,  myself  amoDg  the  rest.  I  understand  it  all.  How 
amiable  some  pf  ople  can  be  at  the  expense  of  others !" 

Flora  was  thunders  track.  "Indeed,  Mrs.  ReaJy,  I  meant  no 
reflection  upon  you.  My  words  bad  no  personal  meaning ;  I  never 
talk  at  any  one." 

"  Oh,  certainly  not  I  You  are  not  aware,"  with  a  strong  sneer, 
"of  the  differences  that  exist  between  Mr.  Ready  and  me  (and 
which  will  continue  to  exist,  as  long  as  mind  claims  a  superiority 
over  matter) ;  that  we  are  only  husband  and  wife  in  name.  But  I 
forgive  you." 

"  You  have  nothing  to  forgive,  Mrs.  Ready,"  said  Flora,  indig- 
nantly ;  "I  never  trouble  my  head  with  your  private  affairs — they 
cannot  possibly  concern  me." 

This  gave  rise  to  a  Lcene.  Mre.  Ready,  who  lived  in  an  element 
of  strife,  delighted  in  scenes. 

"  Oh,  no,"  she  continued,  eagerly  clutching  at  Flora's  last  words, 
"  you  are  too  selfishly  engrossed  with  your  own  happiness  to  have 
the  least  sympathy  for  the  sorrows  of  a  friend.  Ah,  well !—  It's 
early  days  with  you  yet !  Let  a  few  short  years  of  domestic  care 
pass  over  your  head,  and  all  this  honey  will  be  changed  to  gall. 
Afatrimony  is  matrimony,  and  husbands  are  husbands,  and  wives 
will  strive  to  have  their  own  way — ay,  and  will  fight  to  get  it,  too. 
You  will  thtn  find,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  that  very  little  of  the  sugar  of 
love,  and  all  such  romantic  stuff,  remains  to  sweeten  your  cup ;  and 
in  the  bitterness  of  your  soul,  you  will  think  of  me." 

"  If  this  is  true,"  said  Flora,  "  who  would  marry?" 

"  It  is  true  in  my  case." 

"  But  fortunately  there  are  exceptions  to  every  rule." 

•'  Humph !-— This  is  another  compliment^  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  at  my 
expense." 

"  Mrs.  Ready,  I  do  not  wish  to  quarrel  with  you ;  but  you  seem 
determined  to  take  all  my  words  amiss." 

A  long  silence  ensu  ^, — Mrs.  Ready  smoothed  down  her  ruCBed 
plumes,  and  said,  in  a  pitying,  patronising  tone,  very  common  to 
her— 

"  You  will  be  disgusted  with  Canada :  we  shall  see  you  back  in 
less  than  twelve  months." 

"  Not  very  likely,  if  I  know  anything  of  John  and  myself." 


h 


i 


m 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"  What  will  you  do  for  society  ?" 

Flora  thought  solitude  would  be  a  luxury  and  Mrs.  Ready  away 
— and  she  answered,  carelessly,  "  We  must  bo  content  with  what 
Providence  sends  us." 

"  Ah !  but  you  may  be  miles  from  any  habitation.  No  church 
— no  schools  for  the  children — no  markets — no  medical  attendant 
— and  with  your  poor  health — think  of  that,  Mrs.  Lyndsiiy  1  And 
worse,  far  worse,  no  friends  to  sympathise  and  condole  with  you,  in 
distress  and  difficulty." 

Now  Flora  was  answering  ail  these  objections  in  her  own  mind ; 
and,  quite  forgetful  of  Mrs.  Ready's  presence,  she  unconsciously 
uttered  her  thoughts  aloud — "  These  may  be  evils,  but  we  shall  at 
Iciist  be  spared  the  annoyance  of  disagreeable  visitors." 

Imprudent  Flora — to  think  aloud  before  such  a  woman  as  Mrs. 
Ready.  Who  will  venture  to  excuse  such  an  eccentric  proceeding? 
Would  not  the  whole  world  blame  you  for  your  incorrigible  blun- 
der? It  had,  however,  one  good  effect.  It  quickly  cleared  the 
room  of  your  intrusive  guest,  who  swept  out  of  the  apartment  with 
a  haughty  ''000(1  morning."  And  well  dhe  might  be  offended^ 
slie  had  accidontallv  hoard  the  truth,  which  no  one  else  in  the  town 
darod  have  spoken  boldly  out. 

Flora  was  astonished  at  her  want  of  caution.  She  knew,  how- 
ever, tliat  it  was  useless  to  apobgise ;  and  she  felt  pf;rfectly  indif- 
ferent as  to  the  result ;  for  she  did  not  care  if  she  never  saw  Mrs. 
Heady  again  ;  and  such  a  decided  aliront  would  render  that  event 
something  more  than  doubtlul. 

"  Thank  heaven !  she  is  gone,"  burst  heartily  from  her  lips,  when 
she  found  herself  once  more  alone. 

It  was  impossible  for  Mrs.  Lyiulsay  to  contemplate  leaving  Eng- 
land without  great  pain.  The  subject  was  so  distressing  to  her 
feelings,  that  she  endeavored  to  forget  it  as  much  as  she  could. 
'J'iic  manner  in  which  it  had  been  forced  upon  her  by  Mre.  Ready, 
was  like  probing  a  deep  wound  with  a  jagged  instrument ;  and 
after  that  lady's  departure,  she  covered  her  face  with  her  hands, 
and  wej  t  long  and  bitterly. 


■^ 


1   t  . 


"ss^iBiaSuSui 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


25 


CHAPTER   V. 


THE     TRUE     FRIEND. 

Flora  Lindsay  ivas  aroused  from  the  passionate  indulgence  of 
gi'ief  by  two  arms  being  passed  softly  around  ber  neck,  and  some 
one  pulling  ber  bead  gently  back  upon  their  shoulder,  and  kissing 
bcr  forehead. 

"Flora,"  whispered  a  sweet,  gentle  woman's  voice;  "Dear 
Flora.  I  am  come  home  at  last.  What,  no  word  of  welcome  ? 
No  kiss  for  Mary?  In  tears,  too.  What  is  the  matter?  Aro 
you  ill  ?  Is  *he  baby  ill  ?  No— she  at  least  is  sleeping  sweetly, 
and  looks  full  of  rosy  health.  Do  speak,  and  tell  me  the  meaning 
of  all  this!" 

Flora  was  in  the  arms  of  her  friend  before  she  had  ceased  speak- 
ing. *'  A  thousand  welcomes !  dear  Mary.  You  arc  the  very 
person  I  most  >v'ishcd  just  now  to  sec.  The  very  sight  of  you  is  an 
antidote  to  grief:  '  A  remedy  for  sore  eyes,'  as  the  Irish  say.  You 
nave  been  too  long  away.    When  did  you  arrive  ?" 

"  By  the  mail — about  an  hour  ago." 

"  And  your  dear  sister —  ?" 

"  Is  gone  to  a  happier  home,"  said  Mary  Parncll,  in  a  faltering 
voice  ;  and  glancing  down  at  her  black  dress,  she  continued,  "  sho 
died  happy — so  happy,  dear  Flora,  and  now — she  is  liappier  still. 
But,  we  will  not  spcai^  of  her  just  now.  Flora  ;  I  cannot  bear  it. 
Time,  which  reconciles  us  to  every  change,  will  teach  me  resignation 
to  the  Divine  will.  But  ah !  'tis  a  sore  trial  to  part  with  tho 
cherished  friend  and  companion  of  our  early  years.  We  were  most 
attached  sisters.    Our  hearts  were  one — and  now — " 

There  was  a  pause.  Both  friends  wept.  Mary  first  regained 
her  composure. 

"  How  is  Lyndsay  ?    Has  he  finished  writing  bis  book  ?" 

"  The  book  is  finished,  and  accepted  by  Mr.  Bentley."' 

"That  is  good,  excellent  news;  and  the  darling  baby  !" 

"  Little  Dormouse.  There  she  lies  at  the  end  of  the  sofa, 
covered  by  my  shawl.  She  has  been  sleeping  every  since  break- 
fast. I  think  she  only  wakes  up  to  amuse  papa.  But  she  is 
beginning  to  stretch  herself,  and  here  comes  the  head-nurse  himself." 


26 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


"  Our  dear  Mary,  returned  !"  cried  Lyndsay,  entering  the  room. 
•*  It  seems  an  age  since  you  left  us." 

•*  It  has  been  a  melancholy  separation  to  me,"  said  Mary.  "  This 
parting  I  hope  will  be  the  last.  My  father  has  consented  to  come 
and  live  with  my  brcfther ;  and  how  that  dear  Emily  is  gone,  I 
shall  have  no  inducement  to  leave  home,  so  you  will  have  me  all 
to  yourselves,  whenever  I  can  steal  an  hour  from  my  domestic 
duties  ;  and  we  shall  once  more  be  so  happy  together." 

Lyndsay  looked  at  Flora,  but  neither  spoke.  Mary  saw  in  a 
moment  that  there  was  some  hidden  meaning  in  that  quick,  intel- 
ligent glance  ;  and  she  turned  anxiously  from  one  to  the  other. 

"  What  mischief  have  you  been  plotting,  during  my  absence  ?'' 
cried  the  affectionate  girl,  taking  a  hand  of  each.  "  Some  mystery 
is  here — I  read  it  in  your  eyes.  I  come  to  you  striving  to  drown 
the  remembrance  of  my  own  heavy  sorrow,  that  we  might  enjoy  a 
happy  meeting :  I  find  Flora  in  tears,  and  you  Lyndsay  looking 
grave  and  melancholy.    What  does  it  all  mean?'' 

"  Has  not  Flora  told  you?"' 

"  Told  me  what  ?" 

"  That  we  are  about  to  start  for  Canada. "^ 

"  Alas  !  no.  This  is  sad  newT, — worse  than  I  expected.  But 
are  you  really  determined  upon  going  ?" 

"  Our  preparations  are  almost  completed." 

"  Worse  and  worse.  I  hoped  it  might  be  only  the  whim  of  the 
moment — a  castle,  not  of  the  air,  but  of  the  woods — and  as  easily 
demolished." 

"  Let  us  draw  back,"  said  Flora.  "  liyndsay,  dearest ;  the  trial 
is  too  great." 

"  It  is  too  late  now.  Flora.  Depend  upon  it  love,  that  God  has 
ordered  it,  and  that  we  act  in  conformity  to  the  Divine  will,  and 
that  all  is  for  the  best." 

"  If  such  is  your  belief,  my  dear  friend,"  said  Miss  Farnell,  "  far 
be  it  from  me  to  persuade  you  to  stay.  God  orders  all  things  for 
good.  The  present  moment  is  the  prophet  of  the  future.  It  must 
decide  your  fate." 

"  I  have  not  acted  hastily  in  this  matter,"  returned  Lyndsay. 
•*  I  have  pondered  over  it  long  and  anxiously,  and  I  feel  that  my 
decision  is  right.  The  grief  poor  Flora  feels  at  parting  with  her 
friends,  is  the  greatest  drawback.  I  thought  that  she  possessed 
more  strength  of  endurance*   As  for  me,  I  have  passed  through  tho 


IB- 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


2'' 


ordeal  before,  when  I  left  Scotland  for  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope  • 
and  I  now  look  apon  myself  as  a  citizen  of  the  world.  I  know  that 
Flora  will  submit  cheerfully  to  the  change,  when  once  we  lose  sight 
of  the  British  shores." 

"  This  then  means  the  cause  of  Flora's  tears  ?" 

"Not  exactly,"  said  Flora,  laughing.  "That  odious  Mrs. 
Ready  has  been  here,  tormenting  me  with  impertinent  questions." 

"  Flora,  I'm  ashamed  of  you,"  said  Lyndsay,  "  for  suffering  your- 
self to  be  annoyed  by  that  stupid  woman." 

"  And  worse  than  that,  dear  John,  I  got  into  a  passion,  and 
affi*onted  her." 

"And  what  did  Mrs.  Grundy  say  V* 

"  Ah  I  it's  fine  fun  for  you.  But  if  you  had  been  baited  by  he? 
for  a  couple  of  hours,  as  I  was,  you  could  not  have  stood  it  much 
hotter  than  I  did.  Why,  she  had  the  impudence  to  insist  upon  my 
acting  in  direct  opposition  to  your  wishes ;  and  all  but  insinuated 
that  I  was  a  fool  not  to  take  her  advice." 

"  A  very  serious  offence,  indeed,"  said  Lyndsay,  laughing.  "  In- 
stigating my  wife  to  an  act  of  open  rebellion.  But  I  am  sure  you 
will  not  profit  by  her  example."  \ 

"  Indeed,  no !  She's  the  very  last  woman  in  the  world  I  should 
wish  to  iml'^te.  Still  I  feel  angry  with  myself  for  letting  my 
temper  get  the  better  of  prudence." 

"  What  a  pity.  Flora,  that  you  did  not  fight  it  out.  I  would 
back  my  good  wife  against  twenty  Mrs.  Grundys." 

"  She  would  scratch  my  eyes  out,  and  then  write  a  horrid  sonnet 
to  celebrate  the  catastrophe." 

"  Nobody  would  read  it." 

"  Ah,  but  she  would  read  it  to  everybody,  and  bore  the  whole 
town  with  her  lamentations." 

"  Let  her  go.  Flora.    I  am  tired  of  Mrs.  Grundy." 

"  Indeed,  I  was  glad  enough  to  get  rid  of  her,  which  reconciles 
me  to  the  disagreeable  manner  in  which  I  offended  her." 

"  Let  us  talk  of  your  Canadian  plans,"  said  Mary,  "  When  do 
you  go?" 

"  In  three  weeks,"  said  Lyndsay. 

"  So  soon  1  The  time  is  too  short  to  prepare  one  to  part  with 
friends  so  dear.  If  it  were  not  for  my  poor  old  father,  I  would  go 
with  you." 

"  What  a  blessing  it  would  be  I"  said  Lyndsay. 


28 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"  Oh !  do  go,  dear  Mary,*'  cried  Flora,  quite  transported  at  the 

thought,  and  flinging  her  arms  about  her  friend's  neck.     "It 

would  make  us  so  happy." 
"  It  is  impossible !"  said  the  dear  Mary,  with  a  sigh.    "  I  spoke 

without  thinking.    My  heart  will  follow  you  across  the  Atlantic ; 

but  duty  keeps  me  here.    I  will  not,  however,  waste  the  time  still 

left  to  us  in  useless  regrets.    Love  is  better  shown  by  deeds  than 

words.    I  can  work  for  you,  and  cheer  you,  during  the  last  days 

of  your  sojourn  in  your  native  land.    Employment,  I  have  always 

found,  by  my  own  experience,  is  the  best  remedy  for  aching 

hearts." 


CHAPTER   VI. 


1 


flora's    outfit.  " 

Having  once  matured  his  plans,  Lyndsay  hastened  to  take  the 
necessary  steps  to  carry  them  into  execution.  Leaving  Flora  and 
her  friend  Mary  to  prepare  all  the  indlspeusables  for  the  voyage,  ho 
hurried  to  London,  to  obtain  permission  from  head-quarters  to  set- 
tle in  Canada — to  arrange  pecuniary  matters  for  their  voyage,  and 
take  leave  of  a  few  old  and  tried  friends.  During  his  absence, 
Flora  and  her  friend  were  not  idle.  The  mornings  were  devoted 
to  making  purchases,  and  the  evenings  to  convert  them  into  articles 
for  domestic  use.  There  were  so  many  towels  to  hem,  sheets  to 
make,  and  handkerchiefs  and  stockings  to  mark,  that  Flora  saw  no 
end  to  the  work,  although  assisted  by  kind  sisters,  and  the  indefati- 
gable Mary. 

The  two  friends  held  a  grand  consultation  over  Flora's  scanty 
wa'rdrobe,  in  which  there  were  articles  "  old  and  new ;"  but  it  must 
be  confessed  that  the  old  and  the  unfashionable  predominated  over 
the  new  and  well-cut.  Flora's  friends  were  poor,  and  she  had  been 
obliged  to  dispense  with  a  wedding  outfit.  An  old  and  very  rich 
relation  of  her  father,  had  presented  her  with  a  very  elegant  wed- 
ding-dress, shawl,  and  bonnet,  which  was  all  the  finery  Flora  pos- 
sessed. Her  other  dresses  were  very  plain,  and  composed  of  com- 
mon materials ;  and  if  it  had  not  been  for  the, unexpected  bounty 
of  the  said  rich  lady,  our  bride  must  have  done  without  a  wedding- 
garment  at  all ;  for  she  had  earned  the  few  common  necessaries  she 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


took  with  her  to  housekeeping  with  her  own  hand,  in  painting 
trifles  for  the  bazaars,  and  writing  articles  for  ladies'  magazines. 
One  amall  trunk  contained  Flora's  worldly  goods  and  chattels,  the 
night  she  entered  the  neatly-furnished  lodgings  which  Lyndsay  had 
prepared  for  her  as  his  wife. 

Flora  felt  almost  ashamed  of  the  little  she  possessed ;  but  her 
high-minded,  generous  husband,  took  her  penniless  as  she  was,  and 
laughingly  assured  her  that  they  could  never  quarrel  on  the  score  of 
riches ;  for  his  wardrobe  was  nearly  as  scanty  as  her  own ;  and, 
beyond  a  great  chest  of  books  and  music,  he  had  nothing  in  the 
world  but  his  half-pay.  Many  a  long  afternoon  Flora  spent  during 
her  quiet  honeymoon  (for  the  month  was  April,  and  the  weather 
very  wet,)  in  looking  over  shirts  and  socks,  and  putting  them  into 
the  best  habitable  repair.  She  was  thus  employed,  when  an  author 
of  some  distinction  called  upon  them,  to  enjoy  half-an-hours'  chat. 
Flora  hid  up  her  work  as  fast  as  she  could ;  but  in  her  hurry,  unfor- 
tunately, upset  her  work-basket  on  the  Cv,^.,  and  all  the  objection- 
able garments  tumbled  out  at  her  guest's  feet. 

He  was  young,  unmarried  and  a  poet ;  and  this  certainly  was 
not  a  poetical  incident.  "  Mrs.  Lyndsay,"  he  cried,  in  a  tragic  hor- 
ror, (it  would  have  been  more  in  good  taste  to  have  said  nothing 
about  it,)  "  are  you  forced  to  devote  your  valuable  time  to  mending 
old  socks  and  shirts  ?" 

"  They  were  meant  for  my  private  hours,"  said  Flora,  laughing, 
as  she  collected  the  fallen  articles,  and  stowed  them  once  more  into 
thoir  hiding-place.     "  With  such  the  public  has  nothing  to  do." 

"  Well,  if  ever  I  marry,  I'll  take  good  c  ire  to  give  away  every 
old  thing  I  have  in  the  world.  No  wife  of  mine  shall  have  it  to 
say  that  she  was  forced  to  mend  my  rags." 

"  Wait  till  the  time  comes,"  said  Flora,  quietly.  **  You  don't 
know  what  may  happen  yet.  There  are  more  disagreeable  things 
in  every-day  life  than  mending  old  clothes.  Industry  and  perseve- 
rance may  soon  rcpla  ^.e  these  with  new  ones  ;  but  it  is  useless  to 
tlirow  away  old  frienv^o  until  we  are  sure  of  obtaining  others  aa 
good." 

Flora  had  often  thought  of  this  scene,  and  in  her  overflowing 
happiness  had  blessed  God  that  she  had  been  permitted  to  share 
Lyndsay 's  poverty.  Mending  the  old  clothes  had  become  a  privi- 
lege. 

Thirty  pounds  was  all  that  she  could  now  afford  to  lay  out  upon 


80 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


herself  and  her  little  one — a,  small  sum,  indeed,  to  the  rich,  who  would 
have  expended  as  much  in  a  single  article  of  dress,  but  very  large 
in  her  estimation,  whose  wants  had  always  been  regulated  more  by 
the  wants  of  others  than  her  own. 

Ignorant  of  the  nature  of  the  colony  to  which  she  was  about  to 
emigrate,  and  of  the  manners  and  customs  of  the  people  among 
whom  she  was  to  find  a  new  home,  and  of  whom  she  had  formed  the 
most'  laughable  and  erroneous  notions,  many  of  her  purchases  were 
not  only  useless,  but  ridiculous.  Things  were  overlooked,  which 
would  have  been  of  the  greatest  service  ;  while  others  could  have 
been  procured  in  the  colony  for  less  than  the  expense  of  transporta- 
tion. 

Twenty  years  ago,  the  idea  of  anything  decent  being  required  in 
a  barbarous  desert;  such  as  the  woods  of  Canada,  was  repudiated  as 
nonsense. 

This  reminds  one  of  a  gentleman  who  sent  his  son,  a  wild,  extrav- 
agant, young  fellow,  with  whom  he  could  do  nothing  at  home,  to 
grow  tame,  and  settle  down  into  a  quiet  farmer  in  the  Backwoods. 
The  experiment  proved,  as  it  always  does  in  such  cases,  a  perfect 
failure.  All  parental  restraint  being  removed,  the  young  man  ran 
wild  altogether,  and  used  his  freedom  as  fresh  occasion  for  licentious- 
ness. The  prudent  father  then  wrote  out  to  the  gentleman  to  whose 
care  the  son  had  been  consigned,  that  he  had  better  buy  him  a  wild 
farm,  and  a  negro  and  his  wife  to  keep  house  for  him. 

This,  too,  after  the  passing  of  the  Anti-Slavery  bill !  But,  even 
if  slaves  had  been  allowed  in  the  colony,  the  horror  of  color  is  as 
great  among  the  native-born  Canadians,  as  it  is  in  the  United 
States.  So  much  did  this  otherwise  clever  man  know  of  the  colony 
to  which  he  sent  his  unmanageable  son ! 

Flora  had  been  led  to  imagine  that  settlers  in  the  Backwoods 
lived  twenty  or  thirty  miles  apart,  and  subsisted  upon  game  and 
the  wild  fruits  of  the  country  until  their  own  lands  were  brought 
into  a  state  of  cultivation.  Common  sense  and  reflection  would 
have  pointed  this  out  as  impossible ;  but  common  sense  is  very  rare, 
and  the  majority  of  persons  seldom  take  the  trouble  to  think.  We 
■  iM     ..Tijown  many  persons  just  as  wise  as  Flora  in  this  respect.    It 

.  i.  v  iuowever,  that  Flora  believed  these  reports,  and  fancied 
;•  ^.t  . ,  Lf-t  would  be  cast  in  one  of  those  remote  settlements,  where 
?i:  i  r  jf  human  life  were  to  meet  her  ears,  and  the  ringing  of 
iuer  naatMiUud's  axe  alone  awake  the  echoes  of  the  forest. 


'II 


FLORA    LYNDSAT, 


31 


i 


She  had  yet  to  learn  that  the  proximity  of  fellow-laborers  in  tho 
^eat  work  of  clearing  is  in(lispensa]>lc ;  that  man  cannot  work 
alone  in  the  wilderness,  where  his  best  efforts  require  the  aid  of  his 
fullow-men. 

The  oft-repeated  assertion,  that  anything  would  do  for  Canada, 
was  the  cause  of  more  blunders  in  the  choice  of  an  outfit,  than  the 
most  exaggerated  statements  in  its  praise. 

Of  the  fine  towns  and  villagos,  and  the  well-dressed  population  of 
the  improved  districts  of  the  Upiicr  Province,  she  had  not  formed 
the  slightest  conception.  To  her  fancy,  it  was  a  vast  region  of 
cheerless  forests,  inhabited  by  um-ecluimcd  savages,  or  rude  settlera 
tloomed  to  perpetual  toil — a  cliaiateof  stern  vicissitudes,  alternating 
between  intense  heat  and  freezhig  cold,  and  whi<;h  pi-esentcd  at  all 
Goasons  a  gloomy  picture.  No  laiul  of  Cosheu,  no  paradise  of 
fruits  and  flowers,  rose  in  the  distance  to  console  her  for  the  sacri- 
fice she  was  about  to  make.  The  ideal  was  far  worse  than  the 
reality. 

Guided  by  these  false  impressions,  she  made  choice  of  articles  oT" 
<lress  too  good  for  domestic  drudgery,  and  not  fine  enough  to  suit 
the  rank  to  which  she  belonged.  In  this  case,  extremes  would 
Lave  suited  her  better  than  a  middle  course. 

Though  fine  clothes  in  the  Backwoods  may  1x5  regarded  as  use- 
less lumber,  and  warm  stuffs  for  winter,  and  good  washing  calicoes 
for  summer,  are  more  to  be  prized  than  silks  and  satins,  which  a 
few  days'  exposure  to  the  rough  flooring  of  a  log-cabin  would  effect- 
ually destroy ;  yet  it  is  absolutely  necessary  to  be  well-dressed 
when  visiting  th'^  large  towns,  where  the  wealthier  classes  not  only 
dress  well,  but  expensively. 

In  a  country  destitute  of  an  hereditary  aristocracy,  and  where 
the  poorest  emigrant,  by  industry  and  prudence,  may  rise  to  wealth 
and  political  importance,  tlie  appearance  which  individuals  make, 
and  the  style  in  which  they  live,  determine  their  claims  to  superi- 
ority with  the  public,  cliiefiy  composed  of  the  same  elements  with 
tliemselves.  The  aristocracy  of  England  may  be  divided  into  threo 
distinct  classes, — that  of  family,  of  wealth,  and  of  talent, — all 
powerful  in  their  order.  The  one  which  ranks  the  last  should  hold 
its  place  with  the  first,  for  it  originally  produced  it ;  and  the  second, 
which  is  far  inferior  to  the  last,  is  likewise  able  to  buy  the  first. 
The  hftads  of  old  families  are  more  tolerant  to  the  great  men  of 
^OQiu.3  Hum  tliey  iire  to  the  accumulators  of  riches ;  and  a  wido 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


distinction  is  made  by  tbem  between  the  purse-proud  millionaire 
and  the  poor  man  of  genius,  whose  refined  tastes  and  feelings  are 
more  in  unison  with  their  own. 

In  Canada,  the  man  of  wealth  has  it  all  his  own  way ;  his  dollars 
are  irresistible,  and  the  money  niakes  the  man.  Fine  clothes  are 
there  supposed  to  express  the  \\'ealth  of  the  possessor ;  and  a  lady's 
gown  determines  her  right  to  the  title,  which,  after  all,  presents 
the  lowest  claims  to  gentility.  A  runaway  thief  may  wear  a  fash- 
ionably-cut coatj  and  a  well-paid  domestic  flaunt  in  silks  and  satins. 

Now,  Flora  knew  knothing  of  all  this ;  and  she  committed  a 
great  error  in  choosing  neat  and  respectable  every-day  clothing. 
The  handsom<i,  and  the  very  ordinary,  would  have  Answered  her 
purpose  much  better. 

If  "  necessity  is  the  mother  of  invention,"  experience  is  the  hand- 
maid of  wisdom,  and  her  garments  fit  well.  Flora  was  as  yet  a 
novice  to  the  world  and  its  ways.  She  had  much  to  learn  from  a 
stern  and  faithful  preceptress,  in  a  cold,  calculating  school. 


CHAPTER   YII. 


now  MISS  WILHELMINA  CARB  AND  FLORA  BECAME  ACQUAINTED. 

Among  the  many  persons  who  called  upon  Flora  to  talk  over 
her  projected  emigration  was  a  Miss  Wilhelraina  Carr — a  being  so 
odd,  so  wayward,  so  unlike  the  common  run  of  mortals,  that  wo 
must  endeavor  to  give  a  slight  sketch  of  her  to  our  readers.  Wc 
do  not  possess  sufficient  artistic  skill  to  do  Miss  Wilhclmina  justice ; 
for  if  she  had  not  actually  lived  and  walked  the  earth,  and  if  wo 
had  not  seen  her  with  our  own  eyes,  and  hoard  her  with  our  own 
ears,  we  should  have  cousldered  her  a  very  improbable,  if  not  an 
impossible,  vai-iety  of  the  human  species  feminine.  We  have  met 
with  many  absurd  people  in  our  journey  through  life,  but  a  moro 
C5ccentric  individual  never  before  nor  since  has  come  under  our 
immediate  observation. 

Flora's  means  were  far  too  limited  for  her  to  entertain  company. 
Her  visitors  were  confined  entirely  to  her  own  family,  and  a  few 
old  and  chosen  friends,  with  whom  she  had  been  intimate  from 
diildhood.  How,  then,  did  she  become  acquainted  with  this  lady? 
Oddly  enough ;  for  everything  connected  with  Misa  Carr  wad  odd, 
and  out  of  t'  e  common  way. 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


83 


There  was  a  mystery,  too,  ab#ut  Miss  Carr,  which  had  kept  the 
gossips  busy  for  the  last  four  months ;  and  clever  and  prying  as 
they  were — (piitc  models  in  their  way — not  one  of  them  had  been 
able  to  come  at  the  solution  of  the  riddle. 

One  hot  day,  during  the  preceding  summer,  Mfss  Wilhelmine 
walked  into  the  town,  wearing  a  man's  broad-brimmed  straw  hat, 
and  carrying  a  cane  in  her  hand,  with  a  very  small  dog  trotting  at 
her  heels.  She  inquired  at  the  first  hotel  in  the  town  for  lodgings, 
and  hired  two  very  handsome  apartments  of  Mrs.  Turner,  who  kept 
very  respectable  lodgings,  and  was  patronised  by  the  best  families 
in  the  neighborhood.  Miss  Wilhelmina  paid  three  months'  rent 
in  advance ;  she  brought  no  servant,  and  was  to  find  her  own  table, 
engaging  Mrs.  Turner  to  cook  and  wait  upon  her. 

Some  days  after  her  arrival,  two  large  travelling  trunks,  and 
several  well-filled  hampers  full  of  wine  of  the  best  quality,  were 
forwarded  to  her  direction,  and  Miss  Carr  became  one  of  the  lions 
of  the  little  watering  place. 

Who  she  was,  or  from  what  quarter  of  the  world  she  emanated, 
nobody  could  find  out.  She  had  evidently  plenty  of  money  at  her 
command,  lived  as  she  liked,  and  did  what  she  pleased,  and  seemed 
perfectly  indifferent  as  to  what  others  thought  of  her. 

Her  eccentric  appearance  attracted  general  attention,  for  she 
was  no  recluse,  and  spent  most  of  her  time  in  the  open  air.  If 
your  walk  lay  along  the  beach,  the  common,  or  the  dusty  high- 
road, you  were  sure  to  meet  Miss  Carr  and  her  dog  at  every  turn. 

The  excitement  regarding  her  was  so  great,  that  most  of  the 
ladies  called  upon  her  in  the  hope  of  gratifying  their  curiosity,  and 
learning  something  about  her  from  her  own  lips.  In  this  they 
were  quite  disappointed ;  for  ^liss  Wilhelmina  Carr,  though  sho 
was  sitting  at  the  window  nursing  her  dog,  did  not  choose  to  be  at 
home  to  any  one,  and  never  had  the  courtesy  to  return  these  cere- 
monious visits.  An  old  practised  propagator  of  news  waylaid  Mrs. 
Turner  in  the  street,  and  cross-questioned  her  in  the  most  dexter- 
ous manner  concerning  her  mysterious  lodger ;  but  the  good 
woman  was  either  seized  with  a  fit  of  unusual  prudence,  or,  like 
Horace  Smith's  mummy — 

"  Was  sworn  to  secrcsy." 

There  was  no  getting  anything  out  of  her  beyond  the  astounding 
facta,  that  Miss  Carr  smoked  out  of  a  long  pipe,  drank  brandy- 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


punch,  and  had  her  table  served  vpth  all  the  dainties  of  the  season. 
"  Besides  all  this,"  whispered  the  cautious  Mrs.  Turner,  "  she 
swears  like  a  man."  This  last  piece  of  information  might  be  a 
scandal ;  the  ladies  hoped  it  was,  but  believed  and  talked  about  it 
as  a  shocking  thing,  if  true,  to  all  their  acquaintance ;  and  con- 
gratulated themselves  that  the  dreadful  woman  had  shown  her  wis- 
dom in  not  returning  the  visits  of  respectable  people. 

The  person  about  whom  all  this  fuss  was  made,  was  a  tall  and 
very  stout  woman  of  fifty  years  of  age  ;  but  active  and  energetic- 
looking  for  her  time  of  life.  Her  appearance  was  eccentric  enough 
to  aSbrd  ample  scope  for  all  the  odd  saying^  and  doings  in  circula- 
tion respecting  her.  She  had  a  satirical,  laughing,  jolly  red  face, 
with  very  obtuse  features ;  and,  in  order,  to  conceal  hair  of  a 
decidedly  carroty  hue,  she  wore  an  elaborately-curled  flaxen  wig, 
which  nearly  covered  her  large  forehead,  and  hung  over  her  eyes 
like  the  curly  coat  of  a  French  poodle  dog.  This  was  so  caiclossly 
adjusted,  that  the  red  and  flaxen  formed  a  curious  shading  round 
her  face,  as  their  tendrils  mingled  and  twined  within  each  other. 
Her  countenance,  even  in  youth,  must  have  been  coarse  and  vulgar ; 
in  middle  life,  it  was  masculine  and  decidedly  ugly,  with  no  redeem- 
ing feature  but  the  large,  good-natured  mouth,  well  set  with  bril- 
liantly white  teeth — strong,  square,  even  teeth,  that  seem  to  express 
their  owner's  love  of  good  cheer ;  and  silently  intimated,  that  they 
had  no  light  duty  to  perform,  and  were  made  expressly  for  eating. 

Miss  Carr,  though  she  sported  a  man's  hat  and  carried  a  cane, 
dressed  expensively,  her  outer  garments  being  made  of  the  richest 
materials ;  but  she  wore  these  so  ridiculously  short,  that  her  petti- 
coats barely  reached  below  the  middle  of  her  legs — leaving  exposed 
to  general  observation  the  only  beauty  she  possessed — a  remarkably 
handsome  and  neutly-made  foot  and  ankle. 

Now,  we  don't  believe  that  Miss  Carr  cared  a  fig  about  her 
handsome  legs  and  feet.  If  they  had  belonged  to  the  regular  Mul- 
lingar  breed,  she  would  have  shown  them  as  freely  to  all  the  world ; 
simply,  because  she  chose  to  do  so.  She  was  a  great  pedestrian,  to 
whom  long  petticoats  would  have  been  uncomfortable  and  inconve- 
nient. 

If  she  was  vain  of  anything,  it  was  her  powers  of  locomotion. 
She  had  made  the  tour  of  Europe  on  foot  and  alone,  and  still  con- 
tinued to  walk  her  ten  or  fourteen  miles  a  day,  let  the  weather  be 
what  it  would.    Hail,  rain,  blow,  or  snow,  it  was  all  one  to  Misa 


FLOILV    LYND8AY. 


86 


•ian,  to 
icouve- 


Oarr.    *'  Sbc  was  walking,"  she  said,  "  to  keep  herself  in  practice, 
as  she  was  conteraplating  aiiotlicr  long  journey  on  foot." 

Ida  Pfeiffor,  the  celebrated  female  traveller,  was  unknown  in 
those  days  ;  or  Miss  Carr  might  have  taken  the  shine  out  of  that 
adveiituroua  Uidy ;  as  easily  as  the  said  Ida  destroys  all  the  ro- 
mantic notions  previously  entertained  by  stay-at-home  travellers, 
about  the  lands  she  visits,  and  the  people  who  form  the  subjects  of 
her  eutertaiiiiug  nuittcr-ol-fact  bot)ks. 

When  Miss  Carr  made  her  debut  at  church,  with  her  masculino 
hat  placed  resolutely  on  the  top  of  her  heafl,  and  cane  in  hand, 
people  could  not  say  their  prayers,  or  attend  to  the  sermon,  for 
staring  and  wondering  at  the  uncouth  upjiaritiou  which  had  so 
unceremoniously  appeared  in  the  midst  of  them.  This  was  not 
diminished,  by  her  choosing  to  stand  during  those  portions  of  the 
service,  when  pious  females  bend  the  knee.  Miss  VVelhelraina  said, 
"  that  she  was  too  big  to  kneel — that  her  prayers  were  just  as  good 
in  one  attitude  as  another.  The  soul  had  no  legs  or  knees,  that  she 
could  discover — and  if  the  prayers  did  not  come  from  the  heart, 
they  were  of  no  use  to  her,  or  to  any  one  else.  She  had  not  much 
faith  in  prayers  of  any  kind.  She  never  could  find  out  that  they 
had  done  her  the  least  good,  and  if  she  had  to  go  through  a  useless 
eeremonv,  she  would  do  it  in  the  most  convenient  manner." 

Flora  had  heard  so  much  about  this  strange  woman,  that  she. 
had  not  called  upon  her  on  her  first  arrival  in  the  town  ;  though  it 
must  be  confessed,  that  her  curiosity  was  as  much  excite(J  as  her 
neighbor?,  In  her  walks  to  and  fro  from  her  mother's  house,  who 
resided  within  a  short  distance  of  the  town.  Flora  had  aften  en- 
countered the  sturdy  pedestrian  stumping  along  at  full  speed,  and 
she  had  laughed  heartily  with  her  husbaud  at  her  otld  appearance  ■■ 
at  her  short  petticoat.^,  and  the  resolute  manner  in  which  shesv.'ung 
her  cane,  and  planted  it  down  upon  the  ground.  She  had  often 
wondered  how  such  an  elephant  of  a  woman  could  move  so  rapidly 
upon  such  small  feet,  which  looked  as  if  she  had  lost  her  own,  and 
borrowed  a  pair  of  some  child  by  tho  way. 

She  was  always  followed  in  all  her  rambles  by  a  diminutive  non- 
descript kind  of  dog — a  tiny,  long-haired,  silky-looking  creature, 
the  color  of  coffee  freshly-ground,  no  bigger  than  a  largo  squirrel, 
with  brilliant  black  eyes,  bushy  tail,  and  a  pert  little  face,  which 
greatly  resembled  that  animal. 

Often,  when  moving  at  full  speed  along  the  dusty  highway,  ita 


:t* 


80 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


mistroRs  would  sntlJonly  stop,  vociferating  nt  the  top  of  her  voice — 
**Muiri  Muff!  wIktc  uro  you,  my  incompaniWu  Muff?"  when  the 
queer  pet  wouKl  bound  up  licr  dross  like  a  cat,  und  settle  it.eclf 
down  upon  her  arm,  poking  ita  blaclc  nose  into  her  hand,  or  rear 
up  on  ita  hind  legs,  to  lick  hor  face.  They  were  an  odd  pair,  so 
unlike,  so  widely  disproproportioned  in  size  and  motion,  that. Flora 
delighted  in  watching  all  their  movements,  and  in  drawing  contrasts 
between  the  big  woman  and  her  small  four-footed  companion. 

By  some  strange  freak  of  fancy,  Ijyndsay  and  his  wife  had  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  Miss  Carr,  who  nc/er  passed  them  in  her 
long  rambles  without  bestowing  upon  them  a  gracious  bow  and  a 
smile,  which  displayed,  at  one  gesture,  all  her  glittering  store  of 
large  white  teeth. 

"  I  do  believe,  John,  the  strange  woman  means  to  pick  acquaint- 
ance with  us,"  said  Flora  to  her  husband,  one  fine  afternoon  dur- 
ing the  previous  summer,  as  they  were  on  their  way  to  spend  the 

evening  with  her  mother  at Hall.     "Instead  of  passing  us  at 

lier  usual  brisk  trot,  she  has  loitered  at  our  pace  for  the  last  half- 
hour,  smiling  at  us,  and  showing  her  white  teeth,  as  if  she  wcro 
contmiplating  the  possibility  of  an  introduction.  I  wish  she  would 
break  the  ice,  for  I  am  dying  with  curiosity  to  know  sometliing 
about  hor." 

,  "You  are  very  foolish,"  said  Lyndsay,  who  was  not  one  of  Miss 
Carr's  admirers,  "  to  trouble  your  head  about  her.  These  eccentric 
people  are  often  great  bores ;  and,  if  you  get  acquainted  with  them, 
it  is  not  easy  to  shalce  tliem  ofK  She  may  be  a  very  improper 
character.    I  hate  mystery  in  any  shape." 

*'  0,  bless  you !"  said  Flora,  laughing,  "she  is  too  old  and  ugly 
for  scandal  of  that  sort.  I  should  think,  from  her  appearance,  that 
she  never  had  had  a  sweetheart  in  her  lifc." 

"  There's  no  telling,"  returned  Lyndsay.  "  She  may  be  lively 
and  witty.  Odd  people  possess  an  attraction  in  t no m selves.  Wo 
are  so  much  amused  with  them,  that  they  fascinate  us  before  we  are 
aware.  She  has  a  good  figure  for  her  voluminous  proportions,  and 
splendid  trotters,  which  always  possess  charms  for  some  men." 

"  Now,  don't  be  censorious,  husband  dear.  If  she  should  spoab 
to  us — what  then?" 

"  Answer  her  civilly,  of  course." 

"And  if  she  should  take  it  into  her  head  to  call  upon  us?". 

"  Return  it,  and  let  the  acquaintance  drop." 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


tt 


Flora's  lovo  of  the  rkliciiloui}  was  her  besetting  Bin.  She  con- 
tinued to  watch  the  niovemcnta  of  Misa  Carr  with  mischievous 
interest,  and  wna  as  anxioas  for  an  interview  as  Ljndsay  was  that 
she  could  keep  her  distance.  Flora  pressed  her  hand  tightly  on 
her  husband's  arm,  scarcely  able  to  keep  her  delight  in  due  bounds, 
while  she  whispered,  in  a  triumphant,  aside,  "John,  I  was  right. 
She  is  shaping  her  course  to  our  sii!>'  of  the  rood.  Sho  meaus  to 
epeak  to  us, — and  now  for  it !" 

Lyndsay  looked  armoyod.  Flora  with  difficulty  repressed  Iicr 
inclination  to  laugh  out,  as  Miss  Carr  came  alongside,  and  verified 
Mrs.  Lyndsay's  prediction,  by  commencing  the  conversation  in  a 
loud-toned,  but  rather  musical  voice — 

"  A  bright  afternoon  for  your  walk." 

"  Beautiful  for  the  time  of  year,"  said  Flora. 

"  Rather  hot  for  stout  people  like  me.  You  seem  to  enjoy  it 
amazingly." 

•'  I  am  fond  of  walking.    I  do  not  find  the  heat  oppressive." 

"  Ah,  yes ;  you  are  thin.  Have  not  much  bulk  to  carry ;  one 
of  Pharaoh's  lean  kine.  It  requires  a  warm  day  to  make  your 
blood  circulate  freely.  I  like  winter  and  spring  best  for  long 
rambles." 

"I  should  think  you  would  prefer  riding,"  said  Lyndsay;  "yet 
I  see  you  out  every  day  on  foot." 

"I  pever  ride:  I  hate  and  detest  riding.  I  never  could  be 
dopondcnt  upon  the  motions  of  an  animal.  Horses  are  my  aver- 
sion ;  jackasses  I  despise.  God,  when  He  gave  us  legs  of  our  own, 
doubtless  intended  us  to  make  use  of  them.  I  have  used  mine  ever 
since  I  was  a  baby,  and  they  are  not  worn  out  yet.  I  got  upon  my 
feet  sooner  than  most  children,  and  have  kept  them  to  their  duty 
ever  since.  I  am  a  great  walker;  I  have  been  walking  all  my  life. 
Do  you  know  that  I  have  walked  over  Europe,  alone  and  on  foot  ?" 

"  So  I  have  heard,"  said  Lyndsay.  "  It  must  have  been  an  ardu- 
ous undertaking  for  a  lady." 

"  Far  easier  than  you  imagine.  Women  are  just  as  able  to  shift 
for  themselves  as  men,  if  they  would  follow  my  example,  and  make 
the  trial.  I  have  scarcely  sat  still  for  the  last  twenty  years.  There 
is  not  a  remarkable  spot  in  Europe  that  I  have  not  visited,  or 
mountain  but  what  I  have  climbed,  or  cavern  that  I  have  left  unex- 
plored. Three  years  ago  I  commenced  a  pedestrian  tour  through 
Great  Britain,  which  I  accomplished  greatly  to  my  own  satisfaction. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


When  I  take  a  fancy  to  a  place,  I  stay  in  it  until  I  have  explored 
all  the  walks  in  the  neighborhood.  Directly  I  grow  tired,  I  am 
off.  "Via  a  happy,  independent  sort  of  life  I  lead.  Confinement 
would  soon  kill  me." 

"  Your  friends  must  feel  very  anxious  about  you,"  said  Flora, 
"  during  your  absence.''* 

"  Friends !  Fiddlesticks !  Who  told  you  I  had  any  friends  who 
care  a  fig  for  me  or  my  movements?  I  am  gloriously  independent, 
and  mean  to  remain  so.  There  is  but  one  person  in  the  world  who 
is  related  to  me  in  the  most  remote  degree,  or  who  dares  to  trouble 
their  head  about  me  or  my  doings,  and  he  is  only  a  half-brother. 
He  has  opposed  himself  against  my  freedom  of  thought  and  action ; 
but  I  don't  care  that" — (snapping  her  fingers  vigorously) — "  for 
him  or  his  opinions.  He  has  made  war  upon  my  roaming  propen- 
sities all  his  life.  As  if  a  woman  has  not  as  much  right  to  see  the 
world  as  a  man,  if  she  can  pay  her  own  expenses,  and  bear  her  own 
burthen,  without  being  a  trouble  to  any  one.  It  is  certainly  no 
business  of  his  how  I  spend  my  money,  or  where  and  how  I  pass 
my  life.  Not  long  ago  I  heard  that  lie  was  going  to  issue  a  writ 
of  lunacy  against  me,  in  order  to  get  me  and  my  property  into  his 
possession.  This  is  mean  ;  for  he  very  well  knows  that  I  am  not 
mad  ;  and  he  is  very  rich,  so  that  ihere  is  no  excuse  for  his  ava- 
rice. Fortunately,  he  don't  know  me  personally — never  saw  mo 
since  I  was  a  child — and  as  I  never  go  by  my  real  name,  it  is  5  ot 
a  very  easy  matter  for  him  to  discover  me.  I  don't  like  this  place, 
but  it  is  quiet  and  out  of  the  way.  I  think  I  shall  remain  where 
I  am,  till  he  gets  tired  of  hunting  mo  out.  I  trust  to  your  honor, 
young  people ;  so  you  must  not  betray  my  secret." 

Both  promised  to  say  nothing  about  what  she  had  so  frankly 
communicated. 

"  I  take  you  at  your  word,"  continued  Miss  Carr  ;  "  I  like  your 
appearance,  and  would  willingly  improve  my  acquaintance.  I 
Oiieu  watched  yoi  '  -om  my  windows ;  and  yesterday  I  asked  Mrs. 
Turner  who  you  Wcre.  Her  account  was  so  much  in  your  favor, 
that  I  determined  to  introduce  myself  the  first  time  we  accidentally 
encountered  each  other.  I  know  your  names  and  where  you  live. 
May  I  conip  i,nd  occasionally  enjoy  an  hour's  chat  ?" 

"  We  shall  only  be  too  happy,"  said  Flora,  in  spite  of  a  warning 
pinch  from  Lyndsay,  which  said  as  plainly  as  words  could  have 
<Jo»e.  "  She's  mad ;  as  mad  as  a  March  bare."    But  Flora  would 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


89 


not  understand  the  hint.  She  felt  flattered  by  the  confidence  so 
unexpectedly  reposed  in  them  by  the  odd  creature ;  and  vanity  is  a 
great  enemy  to  common  sense. 

"  Mind,"  said  Miss  Wilhelniina,  turning  abrujjUy  to  Lyndsay, 
•'  I  don't  want  to  sec  you  at  my  house.  I'm  a  single  woman,  and, 
though  not  very  young,  I'm  very  particular  about  my  character. 
I  never  allow  a  male  creature  to  enter  my  doors.  I'm  not  fond  of 
men — I  have  no  reason  to  be  fond  of  them.  They  never  were 
commonly  civil  to  me ;  and  I  hate  them  generally  and  individually. 
When  I  come  to  see  your  wife,  of  course  I  don't  expect  you  to  hide 
out  of  the  way,  or  peep  at  me  through  crannies,  as  if  I  were  a  wild 
beast.    I  shall  call  to-morrow  morning,  and  so,  good  day." 

"  MufF!  Muff! — My  incomparable !  my  perfect !  What  are  you 
doing  ?  Frisking  beside  that  ugly  black  cur  I  He's  no  companion 
for  a  dog  of  your  breeding  and  degree.  Away,  you  vulgar-looking 
brute !"  And  running  across  the  road,  she  seized  hold  of  the  ped- 
lar's dog,  who  was  having  a  great  game  of  romps  with  her  favorite, 
and  gave  it  a  most  unjust  and  unmerciful  belaboring  with  her  cane. 

The  pallar,  who  was  by  no  means  pleased  with  this  outrage 
against  his  cur,  now  interfered. 

"  Don't  lick  ray  dorrg,  ma'am,  in  that  ere  sort  o'  fashun.  "What 
harm  can  that  hauiraal  ha'  done  to  you,  or. that  whiskered,  cat-like 
thing  o'  yourn?" 

"  Hold  your  impertinent  tongue,  fellow  1  or  I'll  thrash  you,  too," 
cried  Miss  Wilhelmina,  flourishing  aloft  her  cane. 

The  man  eyed  her  sullenly.  "  Maybe,  you'd  beest  not  try.  If 
you  warn't  a  'unian,  I'd  give  it  to  'un." 

'  A  lady,  sir,"  with  great  dignity,  and  drawing  herself  up  to  her 
full  height. 

"  Ladies  don't  act  in  that  ere  way.  You  be  but  a  'uman,  and  a 
luad  yun,  too ;  that  be  What  you  be's." 

The  next  moment  Lyndsay  expected  the  cane  to  descend  upon  the 
pedlar's  head,  and  was  ready  to  rush  to  the  rescue  of  the  fair  Wil- 
helmina. But  no ;  the  lady  dropped  her  cane,  burst  into  a  loud  fit 
of  laughter,  stoopetl  down,  patted  the  offended  cur,  and,  slipping  a 
shilling  into  the  hand  of  the  angry  countryman,  snatched  MufF  to 
bar  capacious  bosom,  and  walked  of  at  full  trot. 

The  pedlar,  looking  after  her  for  a  minute,  with  his  eyes  and  mo!; Th 
•wide  open  in  blank  astonishment,  and  then  down  at  the  silver  glit- 
tcrinji^  in  his  hand,  cried  out — 


•»• 


40 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"  I  knows  you  bees  a  lady,  now.  If  you  delights  in  licking  o' 
dorrgs,  ma'am,  you  ma'  thrash  Bull  as  much  as  you  please  for  six- 
pence a  licking.    That's  fair,  I  thinks," 

He  might  as  well  have  shouted  to  the  winds  ;  Miss  Wilhelmina 
was  out  of  hearing,  and  Flora  and  her  husband  pursued  their  walk 
to  the  hall. 


CHAPTER   YIII. 

MISS   WILIIELMIXA   CALLS   UPON   FLORA. 

The  breakfast  things  were  scarcely  removed  the  following  morn 
ing,  when  Miss  Carr  walked  into  the  room,  where  Flora  was 
employed  at  her  work-table,  in  manufacturing  some  small  articles 
of  dress. 

"  Your  husband  is  afraid  of  me,  Mrs.  Lyndsay  :  he  started  off 
the  moment  he  saw  me  coming  up  to  the  door.  I  don't  want  to 
banish  him  from  his  own  house." 

"  Oh,  not  at  all.  lie  has  business  in  town,  Miss  Carr.  You 
have  favored  me  with  a  very  early  visit." 

"  Too  early  ?  Just  speak  the  truth  plainly  out.  Why  the 
deuce  do  people  tell  so  many  stories,  when  it  would  be  far  easier  to 
speak  the  truth  ?  I  assure  you,  that  you  look  so  neat  and  comfort- 
able in  your  morning  costume,  that  you  have  no  reason  to  bo 
ashamed.  I  like  to  come  upon  people  unawares, — to  see  them  as 
they  really  arc.  You  are  welcome  to  come  and  see  me  in  my  night- 
cap, when  the  spirit  moves  me.  When  I'm  not  out  walking,  I'm 
always  at  home — busy  at  work,  too,"  she  continued,  putting  a  tiny 
cap  upon  her  fist.     "  'J'liat  looks  droll,  and  tells  tales." 

"Oh,  don't! — do  spare  me,"  cried  Flora,  snatching  the  article 
from  her  odd  companion,  and  hiding  it  away  in  the  table-drawer. 
*'  I  did  not  mean  that  any  one  should  catch  me  at  this  work." 

"  Don't  think,  my  dear,  that  I  am  going  to  criticise  you.  I  am 
no  judge  of  sewing, — never  set  a  stitch  in  my  life.  It  mnst  be  a 
dull  way  of  spending  time.     Can't  you  put  your  needle-work  out  ?" 

Flora  shook  her  head. 

"Too  poor  for  that?  Mrs.  Turner's  daughter  takes  in  all  such 
gimcracks.  Send  what  you've  got  over  to  her,  and  I'll  pay  for  tho 
making." 

"Migs  Carr  1"  said  Flora,  greatly  distressed. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY.  * 


e 


I 


"  What,  angry  again  ?" 

"  No,  not  exactly  angry  ;  but  you  wound  my  pride." 

"  It  would  do  you  no  harm  to  kill  it  outright,"  said  Miss  Carr, 
laughing — such  a  loud,  jovial  peal  of  merriment,  which  rang  so 
clearly  from  her  healthy  lungs,  that  Flora,  in  spite  of  her  oflFended 
dignity,  was  forced  to  laugh  too. 

"  You  feel  better  now.  I  hope  the  proud  fit  is  going  off,  and  we 
can  enjoy  a  reasonable  chat.  These  clothes — what  a  bore  they  are 
to  both  poor  and  rich, — the  rich  setting  their  heart  too  much  upon 
them,  and  the  poor  despised  because  they  have  not  enough  to  keep 
them  warm, — and  those  mean  and  old.  Then,  this  is  not  all. 
There  is  the  perpetual  changes  of  the  fashions,  which  oblige  people 
to  put  on  what  does  not  suit  them,  and  to  make  monstrous  frights 
of  themselves  to  dress  in  the  mode.  You  must  have  a  morning- 
gown,  a  dinnernlress,  and  an  evening  costume  ;  all  to  be  shifted  and 
changed  in  the  same  day,  consuming  a  deal  of  time,  which  might  bo 
enjoyed  in  wholesome  exercise.  I  have  no  patience  with  such  folly. 
The  animals,  let  me  tell  you,  are  a  great  deal  better  off  than  their 
masters.  Nature  has  provided  them  with  a  coat  which  never  wants 
changing  but  once  a-year ;  and  that  is  done  so  gradually,  that  they 
experience  no  inconvenience.  No  need  of  their  consulting  the  fash- 
ions, or  patching  and  stitching  to  keep  up  a  decent  appearance.  It 
is  a  thousand  pities  that  clothes  were  ever  invented.  People  wOuld 
have  been  much  healthier,  and  looked  much  better  without  them." 

**  My  dear  madam,  did  not  God  himself  instruct  our  first  parents 
to  make  garments  of  the  skins  of  animals  ?" 

"  They  were  not  necessary  in  a  state  of  innocence,  or  He  would 
have  created  them  like  cows  i^d  horses,  with  clothes  upon  their 
backs,"  said  Welhelmlm,,  sharply.  "  It  was  their  own  fault  that 
tlioy  ever  requiretl  such  trumpery,  entailing  upon  their  posterity  a 
curse  as  bad  as  the  thorns  and  thistles.  For  I  always  consider  it 
OS  such,  when  sweltering  under  the  weight  of  gowns  and  petticoats 
on  a  hot  day ;  and  I  rate  Mother  Eve  roundly,  and  in  no  measured 
terms,  for  her  folly  in  losing  the  glorious  privilege  of  walking  in 
buff." 

"  You  must  have  been  thinking  of  that,"  said  Flora,  rather  mis- 
chievously, and  glancing  down  at  Miss  Wilhelmina's  legs,  "  when 
you  cut  your  petticoats  so  short." 

"  You  are  welcome  to  laugh  at  my  short  petticoats,"  said  Wil- 
helmiua,  "  as  long  as  I  feel  the  comfort  of  wearing  them.    Now  do 


PHIUMIIIILI 


«* 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


tell  me,  candidly — what  impropriety  is  there  in  a  woman  showing 
her  leg  and  foot,  more  than  in  anotlier  woman  showing  her  hand 
and  arm  ?  The  evil  lies  in  your  own  thoughts.  You  see  the  Ba- 
varian buy-a-broom  girls  passing  before  your  windows  every  day, 
with  petticoats  cut  three  or  four  inches  shorter  than  mine.  You 
perceive  no  harm  in  that.  '  It  is  the  fashion  of  her  country,'  you 
cry.  Custom  banishes  from  our  minds  the  idea  of  impropriety ; 
and  the  naked  savage  of  the  woods  is  as  modest  as  the  closely- 
covei'ed  civilian.  Now,  why  am  I  compelled  to  wear  long  petti- 
coats drabbling  in  the  mud,  when  a  Bavarian  may  wear  her's  up  to 
the  knees,  and  nobody  think  the  worse  of  her  ?  I  am  as  much  a 
free  agent  as  she  is  ;  have  as  much  right  to  wear  what  I  please.  I 
like  short  petticoats — I  can  walk  better  in  them — they  neither  take 
up  the  dust  nor  the  mud,  and  leave  my  motions  free  and  untram- 
melled— and  what's  more,  I  mean  to  wear  them. 

"  I  have  tried  trowsers  ;  but  they  fettered  me.  It  is  difficult 
to  stow  a  large  figure  like  mine  away  into  trowsers.  I  felt  as  if 
my  legs  were  in  the  stocks,  and  kicked  them  off  in  disdain — simply 
remarking — *  what  fools  men  are !'  So,  you  don't  like  my  short 
petticoats  ?  and  I  hate  your  long  ones.  First,  because  they  are 
slatternly  and  inconvenient;  secondly,  because  they  make  your 
stockings  dirty  ;  and  thirdly,  becausethey  give  you  the  idea  that 
they  are  intended  to  conceal  crooked  legs.  So  don't  say  one  word 
in  their  favor." 

"  It  is  but  a  matter  of  taste  and  opinion,"  said  Flora ;  "  we  will 
not  quarrel  about  it.  I  think  it  wise,  however,  in  order  to  avoid 
singularity,  to  conform  to  existing  fashions." 

"  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  I  can  prove  tqi  you  in  less  than  two  minutes, 
that  you  transgress,  daily,  your  own  rules."  Flora  looked  incredu- 
lous. 

"  You  do  not  wear  a  bustle,  which  is  now  considered  by  all  ladies 
an  indispensable  article  of  dress." 

"  You  are  right :  it  is  a  disgusting  fashion,  which  destroys  the 
grace  and  just  proportions  of  the  female  form.  A  monstrous 
piece  of  absurdity,  that  I  have  never  adopted,  and  never  will."* 

"  Bravo !  Bravo !"  shouted  Miss  Wilhelmina,  clapping  her 
hands  in  an  ecstacy  of  delight.  "  I  have  conquered  you  with  your 
own  weapons.     There  is  no  slipping  past  the  horns  of  that  dilem- 


•  During  twenty  yearn  Flora  kept  her  word. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


48 


ma.  You  refuse  to  wear  a  hump  on  your  back,  and  I  decline  the 
honor  of  the  long  petticoats.  Let  us  hear  how  you  can  justify 
yourself?" 

"  You  have  gained  an  advantage  by  my  own  adniission,"  said 
Flora  ;  *i  but  I  can't  consider  myself  beat." 

"  Fairly  out  of  the  field,  my  dear — fairly  out  of  the  field.  Ac- 
knowledge the  defeat  with  a  good  grace.  Let  us  shake  bands,  and 
drink  a  glass  wine  together  in  token  of  peace." 

*'  I  never  keep  wine  in  the  house,"  said  Flora,  rather  embarrassed 
at  tlie  request,  particularly  at  such  on  early  hour  of  the  day. 

"  Never  keep  wine  in  your  house !  Why,  how  do  you  contrive 
to  keep  up  your  spirits,  without  a  glass  of  wine  now  and  then  ?" 

"  We  are  young,  aud  require  no  artificial  stimulants  to  render  us 
cheerful  and  happy." 

"  Well,  I  require  stimulants,"  said  Miss  Wilhelmina,  "  with  the 
violent  exercise  I  take.  I  do  not  object  to  a  glass  of  brandy-and- 
water,  or  even  of  gin,  when  I  feel  exhaustal." 

"  If  you  feel  ill,  Miss  Carr,  I  will  send  out  and  get  some." 

"  111 !  Lord  bless  you  !  I  never  was  ill  for  an  hour  in  my  life. 
So,  you  cannot  afford  a  little  luxury  like  wine  ?  My  child,  I  pity 
you  :  I  am  sure  you  require  it.    I  wish  you  were  better  off." 

"  I  shall  never  quarrel  with  Providence,  from  whom  we  have 
received  so  many  blessings,  on  that  account,"  said  Flora ;  "  I 
am  very  grateful  for  the  real  comforts  we  enjoy." 

"  Poor  comfort!"  quoth  Miss  AVilhelmina.  " My  ideas  of  com- 
fort are  always  associated  with  wealth.  I  maintain,  that  no  one 
can  really  be  comfortable  without  it.  What  should  I  be  without 
money?  An  antiquated,  dgspiscd  old  maid — and  with  all  my 
expensive  habits,  and  queer  notions,  the  very  boys  in  the  village 
would  hold  me  in  derision.  For  even  boys  know  the  importance 
of  money,  and  let  me  pass  unmolested  through  the  midst  of  them." 

"  I  percieve  that  you  are  very  popular  with  the  young  folks,"  said 
Flora. 

"  All  bribeiy  aud  corruption,  my  dear.  Boys  are  but  men 
abridged  and  cramped  down  into  skeleton  jackets.  When  I  come 
to  a  town,  I  throw  a  handful  of  small  silver  coin  into  the  middle  of 
the  first  group  of  boys  I  find  in  my  path.  The  next  time  they  see 
me  coming,  they  cry  out  lustily,  '  Off  with  your  hats,  boys ;  here 
comes  the  rich  lady  1'  Off  go  the  tattered  hats  aud  caps,  and  my 
small  coin  pays, for  the  compliment." 


44 


TLORA    LTND8AY. 


"Your  plan  is  an  expensive  one,"  said  Flora  ;  "no  wonder  the 
boys  regard  you  with  such  favor." 

"  I  never  found  money  fail  but  in  one  instance,"  said  Miss  Wil- 
helraina,  thoughtfully.  •'  Mind,  it  is  not  to  every  one  that  I  would 
communicate  my  experience.  People  like  to  talk  of  themselves — to 
tell  portions  of  their  history ;  it  relieves  their  minds.  There  are 
very  few  to  whom  I  have  ever  told  mine ;  but  I  think  it  will  amuse 
you.     The  follies  of  others  are  always  entertaining. 

"  My  father  was  Scotch — my  mother  Irish.  The  two  nations 
don't  amalgamate  very  well  together.  The  children  of  such  an 
union  are  apt  to  inherit  the  peculiar  national  failhigs  of  both.  My 
father  united  to  a  love  of  science  a  great  deal  of  mechanical 
genius.  He  was  a  clever,  prudent,  enterprising  man,  and  amassed 
a  large  fortune.  My  mother  I  never  knew — she  died  when  I  was 
an  infant.  My  father  hired  a  ^  natured,  easy  kind  of  woman, 
to  be  nurse.     She  was  a  wid^  ■     ut  children,  whom  he  after- 

wards promoted  to  the  head  oi  his  tabic.  She  was  his  third  wife. 
He  had  one  son  by  his  first  ;Ti"rr''age,  who  bad  been  born  in  Scot- 
land, and  adopted  by  a  rich  uiwle.  Te  art  ;''Wp,r{]lT  got  an  appoints 
ment  in  India ;  and  I  never  saw  him  above  half-a-dozen  times  in 
my  life — and  only  when  a  child.  He  was  a  handsome,  proud  man, 
very  Scotch  in  all  his  words  and  ways.  "We  never  took  to  one 
another.  He  thought  me  a  spoilt,  disagreeable,  pert  child ;  and  I 
considered  him  a  cross,  stern  man  ;  and  never  could  be  induced  to 
call  him  brother. 

"  I  inherited  a  good  property  from  my  mother,  which  made  me  a 
very  independent  little  lady,  in  my  own  conceit.  I  knew,  that  the 
moment  I  became  of  age,  I  was  my  own  mistress.  Perhaps  it 
was  this  consciousness  of  power  which  made  me  the  queer  being 
I  am. 

"  My  step-mother  was  very  fond  of  me.  She  spoilt  me  shock- 
ingly— more  than  most  mothers  indulge  their  brats.  She  always 
seemed  to  retain  a  sense  of  the  inferior  position  she  had  held.  Not 
a  common  failing,  by-the-bye :  persons  raised  unexpectedly  to 
wealth,  from  the  lower  class,  generally  measure  their  presumption 
by  then"  ignorance.  She  always  treated  me  as  a  superior.  My 
father  was  very  fond  of  her.  These  passive  women  are  always 
grca,t  favorites  with  men.  They  have  no  decided  character  of 
their  own,  and  become  the  mere  echoes  of  superior  minds.  A  vain 
man  lovos  to  see  his  own  reflection  in  one  of  these  domestic  mag- 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


45 


nifying  glasses  :  it  is  so  gratifying  to  be  tlie  Alpha  and  Om(^  in 
bis  own  house.  His  former  wives  were  both  handsome,  conceited 
women,  who  thought  so  much  of  themselves,  that  tliey  could  reflect 
no  perfections  but  their  own.  In  this  respect  I  resembled  my 
mother — from  a  baby  I  thought  fit  to  have  a  will  and  opinions  of 
my  own. 

"My  step-mother  always  yielded  to  my  masterly  disposition 
when  a  child,  generally  ending  the  brief  contest  with  the  remark, 
'  What  a  pity  Willy  was  not  a  boy  I  What  a  fine,  spirited  boy 
she  would  have  made  !'  When  I  grew  a  tall  girl,  I  became  more 
independent  still,  and  virtually  was  mistress  of  the  house.  My 
father  sent  me  to  school.  I  learnt  quickly  enough ;  but  I  was 
expelled  from  half  a  dozen  for  striking  my  teacher  whenever  she 
dared  to  raise  her  hand  to  correct  me.  At  length  my  education 
was  finished,  and  I  returned  home  for  good,  as  wild  and  as  fierce 
as  an  untamed  colt. 

"My  step-mother  had  a  nephew — a  lad  whom  my  father  had 
befriended  very  much.  He  had  paid  for  his  education,  had  bound 
him  to  an  eminent  surgeon,  and,  when  his  term  expired,  had 
enabled  him,  from  the  same  source,  to  walk  the  hospitals  and 
attend  the  necessary  lectures.  Henry  was  attending  the  last 
course  which  was  to  fit  him  for  entering  upon  his  profession  ;  and 
during  that  period  he  made  our  house  his  home. 

"  He  was  not  handsome,  but  a  well-grown,  high-spirjted,  clever 
young  fellow.  Not  at  all  a  sentimental  person,  but  abounding  iu 
frolic  and  fun,  full  of  quaint,  witty  sayings,  and  the  very  incarna- 
tion of  mischief.  We  took  amazingly  to  each  other ;  and  ho 
enjoyed  all  my  odd  freaks  and  fancies,  and  encouraged  me  in  all 
my  masculine  propensities. 

"  I  grew  very  fond  of  him  :  Ire  was  the  only  creature  of  his  sex 
I  ever  loved ; — but  I  did  love  him,  and  I  thought  that  he  loved  mo. 
I  considered  myself  handsome  and  fascinating.  All  young  people 
think  so,  if  they  are  ever  so  ordinary.  It  belongs  to  the  vanity  of 
the  age,  which  believes  all  things — ^hopes  for  all  things,  and  enter- 
tains no  fears  for  the  result. 

"The  girls  at  school  had  told  me,  that  I  was  '  a  perfect  fright ;' 
but  I  did  not  believe  them.  They  laughed  at  my  snub  nose  and 
carrotty  locks,  and  said  '  that  it  would  take  all  my  money  to  buy 
me  a  husband.' 

"  Now,  by  way  o  digression,  I'm  a  great  talker,  Mrs.  Lyndsay, 


46 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


and  love  to  ramble  from  one  subject  to  another.  Do  just  tell  me 
why  a  snub  nose  should  be  reckoned  vulgar  and  red  hair  disgrace- 
ful ?" 

This  was  an  awkward  question.  It  was,  however,  put  point 
blank.  Flora  could  not  avoid  giving  something  in  the  shape  of  an 
answer. 

"  It  is  impossible  to  account  for  these  things,"  she  said.  "  Any 
deviation  from  a  recognised  standard  of  taste  and  beauty  is  always 
open  to  objections.  But  there  are  a  great  many  modifications  of 
these  rules.  Elegance  of  form,  grace  of  manner,  charms  of  expres- 
sion, and  even  sweetness  of  voice,  will  render  plain  persons  not 
only  agreeable,  but  highly  so." 

"  You  reconcile  me  to  my  snub  nose  and  red  hair,"  said  the  odd 
woman.  "  But  few  people  possess  a  nice  sense  of  discrimination  ; 
they  are  quick  at  finding  out  defects — slow  at  discovering  graces. 
The  world  is  full  of  unjust  partialities.  My  snub  nose  would  have 
been  considered  a  beauty  in  Africa  ;  my  red  hair  would  have  been 
admired  in  Italy ;  but  there  is  no  struggling  against  national  preju- 
dices ;  and  these  bull-headed  English  are  the  most  prejudiced  ani- 
mals under  the  sun — and  I  was  remorselessly  branded  as  a  fright 
1  a  sneering  pack  of  girls,  half  of  whom  had  ncos  as  bad  as  my 
own.  I  had  my  private  opinion  on  the  subject,  m  which  I  flat- 
tered myself  my  cousin  (as  I  called  Henry)  would  perfectly  agree. 

"  He  never  told  me  he  loved  me.  I  felt  certain  that  he  did,  and 
that  it  was  gratitude  to  my  father,  for  all  that  he  had  done  for 
him,  which  kept  him  silent.  This  was  a  foolishly  romantic  notion 
of  mine ;  but  there  was  a  touch  of  romance  about  me  in  those 
days.  I  was  green — ^very  gi'een.  I  can  laugh  at  myself  now ;  but 
it  has  always  been  a  rather  sore  subject. 

"  Henry  did  not  speak  himself.  So  I  thought  I  would  break  the 
ice,  and  speak  for  him.  You  look  surprised.  Well,  I  know  it  is 
not  exactly  according  to  the  general  rules  observed  in  such  mat- 
ters, which  ties  a  woman's  tongue,  and  obliges  her  to  wait  with  all 
Immility,  until  she  is  asked  by  some  man,  whom  perhaps  she  docs 
not  care  a  fig  for,  to  be  his  wife.  I  never  lived  within  rules,  and 
I  thought  I  had  as  much  right  to  please  myself,  and  ask  a  man  to 
marry  me,  as  a  man  had  to  ask  me  to  be  his  wife. 

"  I  made  Henry  an  offer  of  my  hand,  heart,  and  fortune — and — 
it  is  no  use  being  ashamed,  at  my  time  of  life,  of  a  thing  which 


f 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


a 


happened  sncb  a  long  time  ago — T  was  refused/ — without  uny 
softening  of  the  matter — clown  right,  positively  refused. 

•'  The  ungrateful  varlet  did  not  even  thank  me  for  the  honor.  Ho 
briefly  told  me,  '  That  I  was  a  very  amusing  girl,  but  the  last 
woman  on  earth  he  should  wish  to  make  his  wife ;  that  as  to 
money,  it  was  certainly  a  great  inducement,  but  not  enough  to 
compensate  for  the  sacrifice  of  his  principles.  He  had  a  good  pro- 
fession, and  hoped  to  earn  by  it  wealth  and  independence.' 

*'  Ah !  how  I  hated  him  while  he  told  me  all  this.  How  I  have 
hated  all  his  sex  from  that  hour,  for  his  sake ! 

"  However,  my  dear,  it  had  this  good  effect — it  cured  mc  of  all 
such  ridiculous  weakness,  then  and  for  ever.  I  shook  off  the  love 
fit,  and  Wilhelmina  was  herself  again. 

"  My  step-raotlicr  died  shortly  after  this,  and  I  became  the  mis- 
tress of  my  father's  house.  He  was  old  and  very  infii-m,  and 
completely  wrapped  up  in  his  scientific  studies.  I  only  saw  him 
occasionally,  and  then  my  nonsense  amused  him.  He  pined  after 
my  step-mother  ;  and  vi  ry  shortly  followed  her  to  the  grave.  I 
had  just  attained  my  majority  when  he  died,  and  I  came  into  a  fine 
property,  and  found  myself  at  my  own  disposal. 

"  Nobody  cared  for  me,  and  I  cared  for  nobody.  I  wished  to 
take  a  peep  at  the  world,  and  determined  to  travel  over  as  much 
of  its  surface  as  I  possibly  could ;  and  please  myself  as  to  the 
method  I  cmploj-ed  to  effect  my  object. 

"  I  have  been  in  a  great  many  foreign  countries,  and  seen  a  great 
many  strange  people  ;  ar^  been  an  actor  in  many  extraordinary 
scenes;  and  I  have  come  to  the  conclusion,  that  the  world,  after 
all,  is  not  such  a  terrible  bad  world  to  live  in,  and  that  the  very 
worst  of  ita  inhabitants  are  not  entirely  witho^it  some  good." 

As  she  finished  this  sentence,  the  church  clock  proclaimed  to  the 
whole  town  the  hour  of  one.  Miss  Wilhelmina  sprang  from  her 
chair,  exclaiming,  "  Holloa !  that's  my  dinner  hour.  It  will  take 
me  ten  minutes  to  get  home,  and  the  fish  will  be  quite  spoilt.  Ex- 
cuse me,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  and  come  and  take  tea  with  me,  like  a  good 
soul,  to-morrow  evening.    I  never  take  tea  later  than  six." 

Miss  "Wilhelmina  vanished.  Flora  laughed  over  the  interview 
until  her  husband  came  home,  and  then  they  had  a  good  laugh 
together. 


48 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


CHAPTER   IX. 


J 


FLORA  GOES  TO  TEA  WITH  MISS  CARR. 


iP 


The  following  evening,  at  the  primitive  hour  of  half-past  five, 
Fiora  took  her  work,  and  went  across  the  green  to  take  tea  with 
Miss  Carr. 

She  found  that  eccentric  lady  seated  by  the  window,  looking  out 
for  her,  and  Mufl"  standing  on  her  shoulder,  catching  flies  oIF  the 
panes  of  glass.  The  evening  was  cold  and  raw,  though  the  mouth 
was  August,  and  threatened  rain.  Such  changes  are  common  on 
the  coast.  The  dreary  aspect  of  things  witliout  was  relieved  by  a 
small  but  very  cheerful  fire,  which  was  burning  away  merrily  in  the 
grate.  A  large  easy-chair,  covered  with  snow-white  dimmity,  was 
placed  near  it,  expressly  for  Flora's  accommodation,  into  which  she 
was  duly  inducted  by  Miss  Carr,  the  moment  she  had  relieved  her- 
self of  her  bonnet  and  shawl.  Everything  looked  so  comfortable 
and  cosy,  in  the  neat  lodging-house,  and  the  tame  mad  woman 
received  Mrs.  Lyudsay  with  such  hospitable  warmth  of  mannner, 
that  the  former  regretted  that  her  husband  was  not  allowed  to  share 
her  visit. 

"  You  are  late,"  said  Wilhelmina,  drawing  a  small  sofa  up  to  the 

fire,  and  placing  it  opposite  to  Flora's  ca?y  chair,  so  that  a  pretty 

work-table  stood  conveniently  between  them  ;  "  I  told  you  to  come 

early,  and  I  have  been  waiting  for  you  this  hour." 

"  I  am  sorry  for  that.    I  thought  I  had  come  unfashlonably 

early." 

"  Fashion !  "VVhac  have  you  or  I  to  do  with  anything  so  absurd 
aa.  fashion  ?  You  are  too  poor  to  attend  to  the  whims  and  caprices 
which  sway  the  mind  of  the  multitude,  from  which  I  presume  ema- 
nates the  fashions  of  the  world  ;  and  I  am  too  independent  to  bo 
swayed  by  any  will  but  my  own.  We  will  therefore  set  the  fashion 
for  ourselves.  This  is  liberty  hall  while  I  am  mistress  of  it.  I  do 
as  I  please ;  I  give  you  full  permission  to  do  the  same.  But  what 
kept  you  so  late  ?" 

"  A  thousand  little  domestic  duties,  too  numerous  and  too 
trifling  to  dwell  upon,"  said  Flora,  drawing  her  work  from  her 
bag ;  since  you  give  me  the  privilege  of  doing  as  I  please,  I  will 
resume  my  work,  while  I  listen  to  your  lively  conversation." 


I'M 


■j;ffla»i.. 


FLORA     LYXnSAY. 


49 


**  You  will  do  no  sach  thing,"  returned  Wilhclmina,  twitching  a 
frill  which  Flora  ha^l  coinincucal  hennning,  from  her  hand,  "  I  will 
have  no  stitching  and  sewing  hero,  but  as  much  conversation  as  you 
please."  Then  ringing  the  bell,  she  handed  over  the  frill  to  Mrs. 
Turner.  "  Give  that  to  you  daughter,  Mrs.  T.,  to  hem  for  me,  and 
tell  her  to  do  it  in  her  very  best  style." 

"  Why,  la,  ma'am,  'tis  a  very  .nail  affair,"  said  Mrs.  Turner, 
with  a  meaning  smile. 

"A  nightcap  frill  for  Muff,"  sfiid  Miss  Carr.  "The  cold 
weather  is  coming-    I  mea«  Muff  to  wear  caps  in  the  winter." 

"You  area  droll  lady,"  said  Mrs.  Turner,  retreating;  "it's  a 
pity  you  had  not  something  better  to  make  an  idol  of,  than  a  dog." 

While  Miss  Carr  was  speaking  to  ^Irs.  Turner,  Flora  glanced 
round  the  room,  and  was  not  a  little  surprised  to  find  a  pianoforte 
making  part  of  the  furniture,  an  open  drawing-box  of  a  very  cxi)en- 
sive  kind,  with  card-board  and  other  drawing  materials,  occupied  a 
side-table.  These  were  articles  of  refinement  she  had  not  expected 
from  a  man-like  woman  of  Wms  Carr's  character. 

"  Are  you  fond  of  drawing  ?"  she  asked,  when  they  were  onco 
more  alone. 

"  Passionately,  my  dear :  I  am  a  self-taught  genius.  Other 
people  drew,  and  I  was  determined  that  I  would  draw  too.  What 
should  hinder  me  ?  I  have  eyes  to  sec,  and  hands  to  copy  what 
pleases  me ;  and  the  school  from  which  I  derive  instruction  is  the 
best  in  the  world,  and  furnishes  the  most  perfect  models — that  of 
Nature.  I  never  bent  my  mind  to  anything  that  I  wished  to 
accomplish,  and  failed.     But  you  shall  judge  for  yourself." 

Miss  Wilhelmina  sprang  from  her  seat,  and  bouncing  into  a 
closet,  soon  returned  with  a  large  portfolio,  which  she  placed  on 
the  table  before  Flora.  "  'J'hcre  are  my  treasures  ;  you  can  exam- 
ine them  at  your  leisure." 

Flora  did  not  expect  anything  ^clicatc  or  beautiful,  but  she  was 
perfectly  astonished — not  at  the  skill  and  taste  displayed  in  these 
drawings,  but  at  the  extraordinary  want  of  it ;  nothiflg  could  bo 
worse,  or  indeed  so  eccentrically  bad.  The  first  specimen  of  Mis3 
Carr's  talents  as  an  artist,  which  she  drew  from  the  splendid  velvet- 
covered  portfolio,  puzzled  her  not  a  little.  What  the  picture  was 
meant  for,  Flora,  for  the  life  of  her,  could  not  tell,  until,  glancing 
down  to  the  bottom  of  the  sheet,  she  read  with  great  difficulty  the 
following  explanation,  written  in  a  vile  hand — 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


V 


4 


"  Poiirait  of  the  Incomimrahk  Muff,  takai  while  picking  her 
hone  at  breakfast.'^  • 

It  was  a  good  thing-  sho  had  discovcml  a  koy  to  the  liinroglyphic, 
for  Miss  Carr's  keen  oycs  wore  lixed  intently  upon  her,  as  if  they 
were  reading  lier  inmost  soul, 

"  Is  it  not  beautiful  ?"  she  cried,  anticipating  Flora's  admiration. 

"  Muff  is  a  verj'  prctty  aninuil,"  s^iid  Flora,  evasively, 

"  Muff  protty !"  exclaimed  MifS  Carr,  indignantly ;  who  ever 
thought  of  insulting  Muff  by  calling  her  j/rctft/ !  .She  is  exquisite — 
the  perfection  of  her  species.  I  have,  in  that  spiritetl  picture,  hit 
her  off  to  the  life.  Look  at  the  action  of  that  tail — the  lifu-liko 
grasp  of  those  jxiws !  You  might  almost  fiincy  you  heard  her 
growl  over  the  delicious  broiled  mutton-bone." 

"  Flora  thwight  the  picture  would  have  suited  the  Ornithorhij' 
ncu.^panidoxus  quite  as  well  as  the  incomparable  Muff.  The  draw- 
ing was  too  bad  to  pniiso ;  she  could  not  flatter,  and  she  abhorreil 
quizzing. 

Miss  Carr  walLod  for  hej  ans^vc^.  Flura  was  dimib-foundercd  ; 
fortunately  the  offeniKul  vanity  of  the  artist  soon  rdievttl  bcr  from 
the  painful  and  embarrassing  sih^ice. 

"  I  perceive  that  you  arc  iw  jiulge  of  good  paintings,  Mrs.  Tiynd- 
Bay,  or  you  must  see  some  merit  in  the  oiw  before  you.  I  showecT 
that  sketch  to  an  Italian  artisfe  of  celebrity  when  I  w»a  at  Rome ; 
he  said,  'That  it  wivs  worthy  of  the  original,'  which  I  considered 
no  mean  praise." 

"  Doubtless,  he  was  right,"  said  Flora.  "  lira  judgment  must 
he  more  correct  than  mine.  Muff  is  so  unlike  the  generality  of 
dogs,  that  it  is  difficult  to  recognize  her  as  such." 

"  She's  a  fairy !"  cried  Wilhelmina,  forgetting  her  anger,  acd 
hugging  Muff  to  her  breast. 

"  A  Brownie,"  suggested  Flora,  delighted  to  find  the  convetstv- 
tion  taking  a  turn. 

"  Brownies  belong  to  an  inferior  ordci*  of  immortals,"  quoth 
Wilhelmina,  still  caressing  her  dog.  "  My  Muff  is  among  the 
aristocrats  of  her  specie.-*.  But  you  have  not  seen  the  rest  of  my 
sketches.  You  will  find  a  great  many  original  jM^ces  in  the  port- 
folio." 

Flora  wished  them  all  behind  the  fire,  and  turning  with  a  ruefiil 
seriousness  to  the  sacred  repository  of  genitis,  she  drew  forth  sev- 
eral daubs  thafi  were  meant  for  landscapes,  the  contemplation  of 


'I 


1 


I 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


51 


Ivcrsiv- 

Iqnoth 

)f  my 
port- 

Iruefiil 
sev- 
lon  of 


which  woald  have  provoked  tho  most  indiCTcrcnt  person  to  mirth ; 
but  it  was  no  laughing  matter  to  examine  them  while  a  being  so 
odd  as  Miss  Carr  was  regarding  you  with  a  fixed  gaze,  hungry  for 
applause  and  admiration. 

Flora  thought  she  had  discovered  the  maddest  point  in  Misa 
Curr's  character.  At  length  she  stumbled  upon  a  portrait.  Tho 
figure  was  meant  for  that  of  a  boy,  but  the  head  was  as  big  as 
tho  head  of  a  man,  and  covered  with  a  forest  of  red,  curling  hair, 
and  he  held  in  his  hand  a  bunch  of  blue  flowers  as  big  as  himsolf. 
"What  an  odd  looking  creature  1"  burst  involuntarily  from  her 
lips. 

"  Ah,  my  beautiful  Adolphe  1"  cried  Wilhelmina.  "  He  was 
odd  like  myself—  he  stood  alone  in  the  the  world,  in  my  estimation. 
1  nmst  tell  you  the  history  of  that  child  while  you  have  his  charm- 
ing face  before  you." 

Flora  quietly  slipped  the  portrait  back  into  the  portfolio.  Her 
inclination  to  laugh  became  almost  irrepressible.  Miss  '^^'ilheI- 
mina  laid  her  right  foot  over  her  left  knee,  and,  patting  it  almost 
as  complacently  as  she  would  have  done  the  silky,  brown  back  of 
her  pet  dog,  gave  Mrs.  Lyndsay  the  following  passage  from  her 

istory  : —  " 

"  That  boy,  with  the  education  I  meant  to  bestow  upon  him, 
would  have  become  a  great  man — a  second  William  Tell,  or 
Andrew  HofTer — and  1  should  have  been  the  foster-mother  of  a 
man  of  genius.  But  it  was  not  to  be — there  is  a  fate  in  these 
things." 

"Did  he  die?"  asked  Flora. 

"  Die !  that  would  have  been  nothing  out  of  the  common  way  ; 
everybody  must  die,  some  time  or  other.  Oh,  no,  he  may  be  living 
yet,  for  what  I  know — it  was  far  worse  than  that." 

Flora  became  interested. 

"  First — I  like  to  begin  at  the  beginning — I  must  tell  you  how 
I  came  by  Adolphe.  I  passed  the  summer  of  '28  in  a  small  village 
among  the  Alps.  Every  fine  day  I  rambled  among  the  mountains, 
Bomctimes  wRh  a  guide,  sometimes  alone.  About  half-a-milc  from 
the  village  I  daily-encountered,  upon  the  rock);  road,  a  red-headed 
little  boy  of  eight  years  of  age,  who  never  failed  to  present  me  with 
a  bunch  of  the  blue  flowers  which  grow  just  below  the  regions  of 
ice  and  snow.  He  presented  his  ofiering  in  such  a  pretty,  simple 
manner,  that  I  never  accepted  his  flowers  without  giving  him  a  kiss 


52 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


R 


and  a  few  small  coins.  We  soon  became  great  friends,  and  he 
often  accompanied  me  on  my  exploring  expeditions.  Whether  it 
was  his  red  head — God  bless  the  mark  I  or  a  likeness  I  fancied  I 
saw  between  him  and  me,  I  cannot  tell ;  but  at  last  I  grew  so  fond 
of  the  child  that  I  determined  to  adopt  him  as  my  own.  11  is  father 
was  one  of  the  mooutain  guides,  and  resided  in  a  small  cabin  among 
the  hills.  I  followed  Adolphe  to  his  romantic  home,  and  disclosed 
my  wishes  to  his  parents.  They  were  very  poor  people,  with  a 
large  family — Adolphe  being  number  twel/e  of  the  domestic  group. 

*'  For  a  long  time  they  resisted  all  my  entreaties  to  induce  them 
to  part  with  the  child.  The  woman,  like  the  mother  of  tLj 
Graochi,  thought  fit  to  look  upon  her  children  as  her  jewels — 
Adolphe,  in  particular,  she  considwed  the  gem  in  the  maternal 
crown.  Her  opposition  only  increased  my  desire  to  gain  possession 
of  the  boy  ;  indeed,  I  was  so  set  upon  having  him  that,  had  she 
remained  obstinate,  I  determined  to  carry  him  off  without  asking 
her  leave  a  second  time.  My  gold,  and  the  earnest  request  of  the 
child  himself,  at  last  overcome  her  scruples ;  and  after  binding  mo 
by  a  solemn  promise  to  let  them  see  him  at  least  once  a-ycar,  she 
gave  him  into  my  charge,  with  many  tears. 

"  Having  accomplished  this  business,  greatly  to  my  own  satis- 
faction, I  set  off  with  Adolphe,  on  a  tour  on  foot  through  (jJermany. 
He  was  not  only  a  great  comfort  to  me,  but  useful  v»'ithal.  Ho 
was  sturdy  and  strong,  a  real  son  of  the  hills,  and  he  carried  my 
small  valise,  and  enlivened  the  length  of  the  road  vdth  his  agrceublo 
prattle. 

"  When  we  put  up  for  the  night,  the  people  always  took  him  for 
my  son  :  a  fact  I  thought  it  useless  to  dispute  in  a  foreign  country. 
It  would  have  had  a  more  significant  meaning  in  England.  A  red- 
headed single  lady  could  not  have  travelled  alone,  with  a  red-headed 
child,  without  disagreeable  insinuations.  Abroad,  I  always  passed 
myself  off  as  a  widow,  and  Adolphe  of  course  was  my  orphan  son. 

"  Matters  went  off  very  pleasantly,  until  we  arrived  at  Vienna, 
and  I  hired  a  neat  lodging  in  a  quiet  part  of  the  city,  where  I 
determined  to  spend  the  winter.  The  next  morning  I  went  out, 
accompanied  by  Adolphe,  to  examine  the  lions  of  the  place.  By 
accident  we  got  entangled  in  a  crowd,  which  had  collected  in  one 
of  the  principal  thoroughfares,  to  witness  a  fire.  While  striving 
to  stem  my  way  through  ♦ho  heaving  rn^sa  of  human  forms  that 
hedged  us  in  on  every  side,  I  suddenly  rjissed  my  child.    To  find 


f 
■'I 


I 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


53 


m  for 
antry. 
\.  rcd- 
leadcd 
passed 
n  son. 
ienna, 
crc  1 
it  out, 

By 

a  one 

riving 

b  that 

'o  find 


I 


him  among  sach  a  raultitnde,  was,  indeed,  to  look  for  a  neqdle  in  a 
wagon  of  hay ;  yet  I  commeucetl  the  search  in  utter  desperation. 

"  I  ran  hither  and  thither,  wherever  I  could  find  an  opening, 
frantically  cjilling  upon  Adolphe.  I  asked  every  person  whom  I 
met — *If  they  had  seen  my  boy?'  Some  pitied — some  laughed; 
but  the  greater  number  bade  me  stand  out  of  their  way.  I  was 
mad  with  fear  and  excitement,  and  returned  to  my  lodgings  late  in 
the  evening,  starving  with  hunger,  and  worn  out  with  fatigue  of 
mind  and  body.  I  hoped  that  the  child  might  have  found  his  way 
home,  and  was  waiting  me  there.  Alas  I  Adolphe  had  not  been 
seen,  and  I  went  to  bed  too  much  vexed  to  eat  n?y  supper. 

"  Early  the  next  morning  I  resumed  my  search.  I  hired  the 
public  cryer  to  proclaim  my  loss  ;  I  borrowed  a  large  bell  from  my 
landlady,  and  went  through  al!  the  streets  crying  him  myself, 
hoping  that  he  would  recognise  my  voice.  Alas  I  alas  I  I  never 
saw  my  child  again  !" 

"  Never  ?"  said  Flora.    "  Was  he  irrecovably  lost?"* 

"Lost,  lost,  lost!"  said  Wiiuelmiua,  shaking  her  head.  "This 
conies  of  adopting  other  people's  brats.  Had  he  been  a  worthless, 
spoilt  imp  of  my  own,  I  should  have  been  more  successful.  I  stay- 
ed in  Vienna  all  the  winter.  I  advertised  him  in  the  papers.  I 
had  placards,  offering  a  large  reward  for  his  discovery,  pasted  on 
the  walls  of  the  principal  streets ;  but  I  failed  in  recovering  my 
l)oor  Adolphe.  To  console  myself  for  his  loss,  I  painted  that  por- 
trait of  him  from  memory.  'Tis  an  admirable  likences.  No  one 
who  hud  ever  seen  the  original,  could  mistake  it  for  another.  It  was 
just  a  week  after  I  lost  my  child,  that  the  mistress  of  the  house,  in 
compassion  for  my  distress,  presented  me  with  my  incomparable 
Miiff.  Fortune  owed  me  a  good  turn,  for  the  ill-natured  trick  she 
had  plaj-ed  me.  It  would  not  have  been  difficult  for  me  to  havo 
ftraud  another  red-headed  boy,  as  amiable  as  Adolphe ;  but  such  a 
prize  as  Mulf  is  only  to  be  met  with  once  in  a  life." 

"  And  the  parents  of  the  poor  child, — how  did  they  bear  his 
loss  ?" 

"  To  tell  you  the  truth,  my  dear,  I  never  knew.  I  never  wish  to 
know ;  for,  without  Adolphe,  I  never  mean  to  venture  into  their 
neighborhood  again." 

"  I^t  us  hope,"  said  Flora,  "  that  the  child  found  his  way  back 
to  his  native  mountains." 

"  Uurra  I"  cried  Miss  Wilhelmina,  starting  from  her  scat,  and 


54 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


*-•, 


giving  Flora  such  a  hearty  embrace  that  she  nearly  choked  her.  "  I 
never  thought  of  that  possibility  before.  Yes— yes ;  he  had  money 
in  his  little  purse.  I  have  no  doubt  that,  on  missing  me,  he 
returned  by  the  road  we  had  travelled  to  his  native  place.  That 
demon  won't  haunt  my  dreams  again.  But  here  comes  the  coffee, 
and  Miss  Turner's  delicious  cakes  and  home-made  bread  and  but- 
ter. I  hope  you  are  fond  of  coffee,  ray  dear  ?  I  detest  tea  ;— it  is 
a  sort  of  nervous,  maudlin,  sick-chamber  trash,  only  fit  for  old 
maids  and  milk-and-water  matrons." 

"  I  prefer  coffee,"  said  Flora.  "  I  have  quite  an  Asiatic  taste  in 
that  respect."  ^ 

"  Don't  talk  of  Asiatic  coffee,"  said  Wilhelmina ;  "  wait  till  you 
have  tasted  it.  The  nauseous  stuff  1  I  have  drank  enough  of  it  at 
Constantinople,  but  never  could  get  it  down  without  a  grimace. 
I  have  it  made  in  the  French  style." 

The  coffee  and  cakes  were  served  on  a  small  silver  tray,  which 
was  placed*  on  the  table  between  them.  The  coffee  v  as  fragrant 
and  exhilarating ;  the  bread  and  butter  and  cakes  richly  deserved 
the  praise  Miss  Wilhelmina  had  bestowed  upon  them.  Flora  had 
dined  early,  and  did  justice  to  them. 

»  "I  like  to  see  a  person  enjoy  their  meals,"  said  Miss  Carr.  "  I 
hate  affectation  in  eating,  as  much  as  I  hate  affectation  in  speech. 
Some  mince  with  their  food  as  if  they  were  ashamed  of  putting  a 
morsel  into  their  mouths  before  people.  They  ask  for  the  least 
piece  of  this,  and  for  an  imaginary  crumb  of  that ;  and  make  their 
entertainers  uncomfortable  by  their  ridiculous  fastidiousness ;  while, 
if  we  could  see  these  very  delicate  masticators  in  their  own  homes, 
perhaps  we  should  find  them  grumbling  for  Benjamin's  share  of  the 
daily  meal.  For  my  own  part,  I  always  eat  in  public  as  if  no  eye 
was  upon  me,  and  do  it  in  a  hearty,  natural  way.  You  may  be 
sure,  when  you  see  persons,  whether  male  or  female,  give  them- 
selves great  airs  at  table,  that  they  have  never  been  used  to  good 
society  at  home." 

Flora  thought  there  was  a  great  deal  of  truth  in  some  of  Wilhel- 
mina's  remarks.  But  she  felt  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to  take 
the  doings  of  such  an  odd  mortal  for  precedents  in  any  case ;  and 
she  was  justified  in  her  opinion  by  Miss  Carr,  the  moment  the  table 
was  cleared,  calling  for  hot  water,  brandy,  and  wine. 

"  Do  you  smoke  ?"  she  cried,  producing  a  box  of  segars  from  the 
closet,  and  a  long  Turkish  pipe.    Then,  drawing  down  the  window- 


FLORA    LYXDSAT. 


65 


Mr 


cnrtams,  ska  tucked  her  legs  under  her  upon  the  sofa,  and  com- 
menced filling,  from  a  beautiful  inlaid  silver  lx)X,  her  hooker,  with 
its  finely-ornamented  bowl  and  amber  mouthpiece. 

Flora  looked  her  astonishment,  as  she  said —         •' 

"  Miss  Carr,-do  you  rcalhj  smoke?" 

"  Do  I  know  what  is  good  ?"  said  Wilhclmina.  *'  Did  you  never 
Bce  a  woman  smoke  Ijeforc  ?" 

-  "  Yes,  Irish  barrow-^vomen,  in  London ;  and  I  thought  it  odd, 
even  for  them." 

"  They  were  wise  women,  my  dear,  and  knew  how  to  appreciate 
the  merits  of  the  weed.  The  Irish  ai'c  a  clever  people — a  very 
clever  people.  You  remember,  that  I  am  Irish  by  the  mother's 
side,  and  have  retained  one  of  the  national  tasle?i.  IJut  it  was  not 
in  Ireland,  nor  in  the  streets  of  Loudon,  sitting  upon  a  fruit- 
woman's  barrow,  that  I  learned  the  pleasui-es  of  smoking.  It  was 
in  the  Kast,  with  all  its  pretcnided  romance,  and  real  humbug,  that 
I  acquired  what  yeu  consider  an  uufeniinine  accompllKhment.  I 
saw  fat,  turbaned  men  sitting  cross-legged  in  every  biv.7aar,  dozing 
ever  their  huge  pif)es,  in  a  sort  of  (Ivcjuny  helplessness  ;  and  I 
determined  to  fathom  tlve  mystery  of  their  enjoyment,  and  find  out 
the  grand  secret. 

''The  first  few  whiffs  I  took  made  me  very  sick  and  stupid. 
'•Courag(3,'  said  I,  not  in  the  leiist  diaIi^jHent>d — 

"  '  Ploasiiix!  cometlj  aftor  pain, 
?unsliiiiu  Cometh  aTtor  rain— 
Wilholiniaa,  trj  ai^ain.' 

And  I  did  try,  ft)r  I  was  determined  not  to  be  beaten  by  these  loug- 
bearded,  long-petticoated  men ;  and  the  next  trial  was  crowned 
with  complete  success.  M 

"  Now,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  is  it  not  a  s])ame  (liartli'^e  selfish  men 
should  be  tamely  allowed  by  us  foolish  women  to  moiiojiolise  all 
the  good  things  of  life,  and  make  that  criminal  in  ajfapale  which 
they  cannot  deny  themselves?  You  don't  know  hwi  much  you 
lose,  by  being  frightene<l  by  their  blustering  into  pa&c;ive  obetlience, 
and  persuaded  that  wiiat  is  good  for  a  man  is  (piite  out  of  keeping 
with  a  woman.  Do,  just  by  way  of  ilJustration  to  my  argument, 
try  one  of  those  fragrant  cigars.  They  arc  of  the  best  quality— real 
Havana — 'pon  honor." 

""  You  must  excuse  me,"  said  Flora,  laughing —aa  Miss  Wilhcl- 


h 


'^ 


I 


'k 


56 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


mina's  head  dimly  loomed  through  clouds  of  smoke — "  I  have  no 
wish  to  acquire  such  a  ta&te," 

"  You're  a  little  fool,"  puffed  forth  Wilhelmina.  "  But  I  hope 
to  make  something  out  of  you  yet.     Take  a  glass  of  wine." 

"  I  never  driuk  anything  but  water^  excepting  at  breakfast  and 
tea." 

"  Water  !  Fiddle-fadtF.e.  A  tumbler  of  hot  punch  will  do  you 
no  harm.     I  am  going  to  mix  some  in  the  most  scientific  manner." 

"  Only  think  what  Lyndsay  would  say,"  cried  Flora,  "  if  ho 
Bhould  come  in,  and  find  mo  smoking  a  cigar,  and  drinking  brandy 
punch !  lie  would  never  forgive  me — I  could  never  forgive  my- 
self." 

"  All  stuff  and  nonsense  ;  I  am  certain  he  would  neither  refuse 
one  of  these  cigars,  nor  a  tumbler  of  this  excellent  punch.  Does 
lie  never  smoke?" 

"  Oh,  yos  ;  a  cigar,  sometimes." 

"  And  takes  a  glass  of  toddy — or  he's  no  Scot." 

"  Occasionally,  with  a  fricwl." 

"  A  male  friend,  of  course.  He  takes  snuff,  for  I  have  seen  him 
do  it ;  and  this,  between  ourselves,  is  a  fivr  dirtier  habit  than  smok- 
ing. I  hate  smiff :  it  ahvavs  reminds  me  of  a  lectuirc  I  once  heard 
upon  that  sulD^'oct  in  Amwlca.  The  lecturer  was  a  raethodist ; 
and  he  spoke  very  vehemently  agaii>st  the  use  of  tobacco  in  any 
shape ;  but  snuff-tuking  swMiieil  to  rouse  him  up,  and  inilamc  his 
indignation  to  a  pitch  of  cntlmsiasni.  '  If  the  Almighty,'  ho  said, 
'  had  intended  a  man's  nose  for  a  dust-holer  he  would  have  turned 
up  the  nostrils  the  other  way.'  These  were  his  very  worils ;  and 
to  me  they  were  so  convincing,  that  I  discarded  from  that  momeuti 
all  ideacf  Ijecoraing  a  suuff-takcr." 

Wilhelmina  emptied  her  tumbler  of  brandy  arid  water,  which  sho 
as  quickly  replcnishotl.  These  strong  potations  began  to  tako 
effect — her  eyes  danced  in  her  head,  and  she  became  so  strangely 
excited,  thft^Plora  Avishcd  devoutly  that  she  wtis  safe  at  home. 
Presently  her  odd  companion  laid  aside  her  pipe,  puslied  from 
before  her  the  now  empty  tumbler,  and,  rising  abruptly,  exclaimed, 

"  I've  had  enough." 

Flora  thought  that  she  nught  have  conae  to  that  conclusion  half 
an  hour  before. 

"I'm  not  intoxicated,"  slie  said :  "I  only  driuk  enough  to  raise 


f 


.>. 


m 


i 


% 

^j* 


*a 


i 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


51 


alf 


i\SQ 


my  spirits,  and  drive  away  the  blae  devils.    And  now  for  a  little 
music." 

She  sat  down  to  the  piano. 

"  I  play  entirely  from  ear,  Mrs.  Lyndsay ;  I  leave  you  to  jndge 
if  I  have  not  an  exquisite  taste.  Here  is  a  march  I  composed  this 
morning  for  Captain  Lyndsay's  black  regiment — Hottentot,  of 
cMirsc.  Yoa  say  he  plays  well  himself.  He  cannot  fail  to  admire 
it.    I  will  write  it  out  for  him  to-morrow." 

Of  all  Miss  Carr's  strange  whims,  the  idea  she  entertained  of 
her  being  a  great  musician,  was  the  most  absurd.  She  rattled 
over  the  keys  at  a  tremcndour  rate,  striking  them  with  such  force 
that  she  made  the  instrument  shake.  It  was  a  mad  revel — a  hurri- 
cane of  sound,  yet  not  without  a  certain  degree  of  eccentric  talent. 
In  the  midst  of  a  tremendous  passage,  there  came  a  knock  at  the 
door. 

'•  That's  my  husband,"  said  Flora,  rising,  glad  to  get  away. 

It  was  only  the  maid.  - 

"  You  are  no  prophet,"  said  Miss  Cferr,  rattling  on ;  "yoa  must 
stay  till  I  give  you  Napoleon's  Passaye  of  the  Alps.  I  wrote  it  on 
the  spot.  It  is  a  grand  thing.  I  mean  to  publish  it  one  of  these 
days." 

Flora  said,  "  that  she  sHonld  be  happy  to  hear  it  some  other  time. 
It  was  late.    She  was  anxious  to  get  home." 

"  Be  off  with  you,  then,"  said  Wilhelmina,  laughing,  "  and  don't 
tell  me  any  white  lies,  or  try  and  convince  your  good  man,  that  I 
have  been  endeavoring  to  corrupt  your  morals." 

Lyndsay  was  amused,  but  not  much  pleased,  with  the  account 
his  wife  gave  him  of  her  visit  to  Miss  Carr. 

"  You  must  drop  that  woman's  acquaintance,  if  possible,"  said 
he.  •'  Whether  insane,  or  only  eccentric,  any  particular  intimacy 
with  her  must  be  attended  with  unpleasant  consequences." 

Flora  was  willing  enough  to  follow  his  advise ;  but  to  get  rid 
of  Miss  Carr  was  sooner  said  than  done.  Flora  did  not  go  to  that 
lady's  house>  but  Wilhelmina  chose  to  come  to  hor ;  though  she 
gave  her  neither  pipes  to  smoke,  nor  brandy  to  drink,  her  odd 
guest  never  failed  to  step  in  once  or  twice  a  week. 

"  You  are  an  ungrateful  creature.  Flora  Lyndsay,"  said  Wilhel- 
mina, one  day  to  her — "  very  ungrateful.  You  know  I  am  fond  of 
you  ;  but  you  are  such  a  mental  coward,  that  you  are  ashamed  of 
my  acquaintance,  because  the  world  finds  ffiult  with  me,  for  not 

8* 


'% 


^'I' 


58 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


living  in  accordance  with  its  lying  customs.  You  are  afraid  lest 
people  should  sneer  at  you  for  tolerating  my  eccentricities,  as  they 
please  to  term  a  person  leading  a  true  life — or  say  that  Mrs.  Lynd- 
say  smokes,  and  swears,  because  Miss  Carr  does ;  and  your  sense 
of  propriety  is  shocked  at  such  an  idea.  I  do  drink  and  smoke  ; 
but  like  Poll,  in  the  sailor's  song,  *  I  seldom  swear.'  It  gives  me 
no  pleasure  ;  and  I  never  do  anything  gratuitously  bad." 

Flora  could  not  deny  that  these  were  among  the  objections  sho 
had  to  an  intimacy  with  Miss  Carr  j  but  she  wisely  held  her  tongue 
upon  the  subject. 

•'  Ah,  well,"  said  Wilhelmina,  after  waiting  a  reasonable  time 
for  an  answer,  and  getting  none.  "  Your  silence  is  very  conclusive 
evidence  of  the  accusation  I  have  brought  against  you.  I  give  you 
credit  for  being  honest,  at  least.  You  are  no  sneak,  though  I  am 
rich,  and  you  are  poor.  I  verily  believe,  that  you  are  prouder 
of  your  poverty,  than  I  am  of  my  wealth.  I  know  many  persons 
who  hate  me,  and  would  yet  fawn  to  me  before  my  face,  while  they 
abused  me  like  pickpockets  behind  my  back.  You  are  not  one  of 
them,  and  I  love  you  for  that." 

Flora  had  a  kindness  Tor  Wilhelmina.  She  believed  her  to  be 
mad,  and  not  acoountable  for  her  actions,  and  she  tried  to  persuade 
her  to  give  over  her  rambling  propensities,  and  accept  the  protec- 
tion of  her  brother's  roof.  This  advice  greatly  displeased  Miss 
Carr.  Flora  might  as  well  have  striven  to  confine  a  hurricane 
within  the  bounds  of  a  cambric  pocket-handkerchief,  as  to  lay  the 
least  embargo  upon  that  lady's  freedom  of  speech  or  action. 

"Mind  your  own  business,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,"  she  said,  angrily. 
"  I  suffer  no  one  to  interfere  with  me  or  my  matters." 

For  many  months  Wilhelmina  never  entered  the  house,  though 
sho  walked  past  the  window  every  day,  to  give  Flora  a  hint  that 
she  was  still  in  the  land  of  the  living. 

In  February  Mrs.  Lyndsay's  little  girl  was  born ;  and  for  a  long 
time  she  was  too  ill  to  stir  abroad.  Miss  Carr  sent  Mrs.  Turner 
every  day  to  inquire  after  her  health ;  and  testified  her  regard  in  a 
more  substantial  form,  by  sending  her  two  dozen  of  old  Madeira 
wine,  which  she  said  would  strengthen  and  do  her  good.  Flora 
was  very  grateful  for  these  little  attentions,  and  felt  ashamai  of 
the  repugnance  she  had  shown  for  Wilhelmina's  society.  But  they 
never  met  again,  until  Miss  Carr  came  to  bid  her  farewell. 

"  You  are  going  to  Canada,"  she  said,  shaking  Florn  heartily  by 


■'"M 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


69 


long 

rncT 

lin  a 

Icira 

llora 

of 

they 


the  hand.  "  You  are  wise.  In  that  wild  country  you  will  enjoy 
the  glorious  privile;:cc  of  living  as  you  please.  I  would  go  too,  but 
I  am  afraid  the  cold  wiHlors  would  not  agree  with  Muff,  and  her 
comfort  has  to  be  considered  as  well  as  my  own.  I  spent  a  winter 
in  New  York ;  and  I  like  the  Americans  first-rate  But  as  to  pure 
democracy,  my  dear,  tluit's  all  a  humbug.  No  well-eduoatcd, 
wealthy  persons,  ever  consider  themselves  upon  an  equality  with* 
their  servants.  But  they  are  pleasant,  kind,  intx?lligent  people  to 
live  witli,  if  you  have  plenty  of  money,  and  dress  well.  I  know 
nothing  of  Canada ;  it  was  too  insignificant  to  awaken  either  inte- 
rest or  curiosity.  1  shall  regard  it  with  more  complacency  for 
your  sake." 

Flora  took  the  opportunity  of  tlmuking  Miss  Carr  for  her  kiod- 
nesH  during  her  illness. 

"  What  a  serious  matter  you  make  of  a  trifle,"  said  Wilhelmina, 
laughing.  "Don't  thank  me.  It  was  neither  out  of  love  nor 
charity  I  sent  it,  but  just  to  make  you  confess  that  wine  was  a 
good  thing,  after  all,  and  much  better  to  take  than  the  doctor's 
stuff." 

"  The  doctor  had  recommended  wine,  but  we  could  not  afford  it. 
I  never  told  Lyndsay  a  word  about  it,  for  fear  he  should  lay  out 
the  money  we  wanted  so  much  for  our  voyage,  in  such  an  expensive 
remedy.     I  am  certain  that  it  did  me  a  great  deal  of  good." 

"  Doubtless,"  said  Wilhelmina.  "  I  am  glad  to  have  rendered 
you  a  service,  however  trifling.  You  are  a  dear,  prudent  creature, 
but  want  spirit  to  live  as  you  please.  I  leave  this  hum-drum  place 
to-morrow.  Perhaps  some  of  these  days  we  may  meet  again ;  if 
not,  you  may  live  to  learn  that  you  slighted  the  friendship -of  one 
of  the  greatest  geniuses  that  has  arisen  in  this  age." 

Miss  Carr  left  the  town  on  foot,  as  suddenly  as  she  had  entered 
it.  Who  or  what  she  was,  remains  a  riddle  to  this  day :  we  are 
almost  inclined  to  believe  that  she  was  a  mytfu 


by 


T 


;.; 


i  i 

I 
t  ■; 


CO  FLORA    LYND8AT. 

CHAPTER   X. 

OLD   JARVIS   AMD   HIS   BOO  NEPTUNK. 

"Ma'am,  old  Jarvis  is  in  the  kitchen,  lie  has  brong^Iit  some 
•fish,  and  Wants  to  sec  you,"  said  Flora's  nmld  one  morning,- as  her 
mistress  had  just  finished  washing  and  dressing  the  baby. 

"  Poor  old  man !  I  thought  he  was  deatl,"  said  Flora.  *'  I  hava 
not  seen  him  for  such  a  long  time!"  and,  with  baby  in  her  arms, 
Bhe  followed  the  girl  into  the  kitchen. 

David  Jarvis  was  a  fisherman,  well  known  upon  that  coast, — an 
active,  energetic  son  of  the  sea,  though  somewhat  time-worn  and 
weather-beaten.  The  pei^on  of  the  old  man  had  been  familiar  to 
Flora  since  she  was  a  little  child ;  and  many  a  stolen  trip  had  she 
taken  with  her  brothers  in  his  cockleshell  of  a  boat,  which,  tough 
as  its  master,  had  stood  the  wear  and  tear  of  the  winds  and  waves 
for  many  years. 

Since  she  came  to  reside  at ,  she  had  often  watched  that 

little  boat  dancing  over  the  waves,  carried  onward  by  a  stiff  breeze, 
now  hiding  in  the  green  valleys  of  the  sea,  now  mounting  aloft,  liko 
a  feather  floating  on  the  ridge  of  sonae  toppling  surge,  llic  old 
man  seemed  to  bear  a  charmed  life;  for  at  all  seasons,  and  in 
almost  all  weather,  the  little  wiry  seaman,  with  his  short  pipe  in 
his  mouth,  and  his  noble  Newfoundland  dog,  Neptune,  in  the  Bow 
of  his  boat,  might  bo  seen  coasting  along  the  shore,  following  his 
adventurous  calling. 

That  large,  deep-chested,  powerful  dog,  was  the  admiration  of  all 
the  children  in  the  town.  It  was  considered  a  privilege  by  the 
young  fry  to  pat  Neptune's  buff  head,  and  call  him  tlic  "  dear,  good, 
old  dog!"  and  well  did  the  fine  animal  deserve  the  title. 

The  good  dog  had,  at  different  times,  saved  nine  seamen  from  a 
watery  grave,  as  the  collar  he  wore  round  his  neck  recording  tho 
fact  could  testify. 

Next  to  his  two  fine  sons,  Nep  was  the  delight  of  the  old  man's 
heart.  They  were  never  seen  apart.  In  storm  or  sunshine,  Nep 
accompanied  his  master  in  the  boat ;  or,  if  fishing  on  the  beach,  ho 
sat  up  on  his  haunches,  with  a  calm,  sagacious  air,  watching  the 
accumulating  pile  of  fish  cntnistcd  to  his  care.  Sociable,  affable, 
and  gentle,  he  submitted  good-humorcdly  to  the  caresses  of  all  tho 


.ii- 


..^ 


'a^Bem^easgi^gi^ 


FLORA    LYND3AT. 


61 


youngsters  who  passc<l  that  way  ;  but  if  any  one  dared  to  lay  a  fin- 
por  upon  the  fish,  the  lion-like  nature  of  the  animal  was  roused  into 
instant  action.  His  mild  eye  became  red  and  fiery,  and  hia  deep 
voice  bade  defiance  to  the  incautious  intruder  on  his  master's 
ri;,Hita,  to  protect  which  Nep  was  ready  to  lay  down  his  valuable 
life. 

Jarvis  and  his  dog  enjoyed  a  great  degree  of  popularity  in  an 
humble  way ;  and  were  decidedly  among  the  lions  of  the  place, 
(jfentlcmcn  had  offered  large  sums  for  the  buff  Newfoundland  dog, 
which  Jarvis  had  i-ojectod  without  a  second  thought ;  declaring, 
that  he  would  as  soon  sell  a  child  for  money,  as  his  faithful  Nep. 
During  the  past  year  the  old  seaman  had  been  severely  tried.  Mis- 
fortune had  followed  upon  misfortune ;  until  the  hardy  veteran 
looked  like  the  spectre  of  his  former  self. 

His  only  daughter,  a  pretty  girl  of  eighteen,  was  engaged  to 
marry  the  ostler  at  tlic  Crown  Inn,  a  fine-looking  young  man,  who 
had  lately  come  from  London.  He  saw  Nancy  Jarvis,  became 
enamored  of  the  fisherman's  daughter,  told  his  tale  of  love,  and  was 
accepted.  The  old  man  was  rather  averse  to  the  match ;  for,  in 
hid  eyes,  no  man  was  worthy  of  his  Nancy,  who  was  not  a  genuine 
son  of  the  sea.  Robert  Green  at  last  succeeded  in  overcoming  his 
nautical  prejudices ;  and  a  day  waa  fixed  for  tire  wotlding.  Nancy's 
rosy,  artless  face  was  all  smiles  and  sunshine,  as  night  after  night 
rfic  sauntered  past  Flora's  windows,  leaning  upon  the  arm  of  her 
l)etrothed.    Only  two  days  previous  to  the  one  appointed  for  the 

Avcdding,  the  father  learned  from  old  captain  P ,  whose  vessel 

had  just  returned  from  London,  that  Robert  Green  had  a  wife  and 
two  children  in  the  great  city :  that  tlio  poor  young  woman,  hear- 
ing that  his  vessel  was  from  the  Port  of ,  had  come  on  board, 

to  make  some  inquiries  respecting  her  faithless  husband  ;  and  that 
she  and  her  little  ones  were  now  on  their  way  to  join  him. 

This  distressing  intelligence  was  rashly  communicated,  without 
any  previous  warning,  to  Nancy  Jarvis.  The  unfortunate  girl, 
seized  with  a  sudden  frenzy,  rushed  to  the  pier  and  flung  herself 
into  the  sea,  when  the  tide  was  running  out ;  and  her  distracted 
parents  never  succeeded  in  recovering  the  body  of  the  poor  maniac. 
The  worthless  libertine,  on  whose  account  this  desperate  act  was 
committed,  decamped  in  the  night ;  and  so  escaped  the  vengeance 
of  the  old  fisherman  and  his  sons. 

Davy  J  arvis,  the  old  seaman's  youngest  sor,  a  fine  lad  of  sixteen, 


1 


ii 


M'ij 


li    is 


•B  FLORA    LYNDSAT. 

was  drowned  in  the  month  of  July,  only  a  few  weeks  after  the 
tragical  death  of  his  sister.  Flora  and  Lyndsay  had  been  eye-wit- 
nesses of  this  fresh  calamity,  Every  fine  afternoon  the  young 
Davy  was  in  the  habit  of  going  Off  with  another  boy,  of  his  own 
age,  in  his  father's  boat.  When  they  had  rowed  a  couple  of  miles 
from  the  shore,  they  lay  to,  stripped,  and  went  into  the  water  to 
Bwim,  diving  and  sporting  among  the  waves,  like  two  sea-gulls 
taking  their  pastime  in  the  summer  ocean. 

Lyndsay  had  often  watched  them,  and  admired  the  dexterity 
with  which  the  younger  Jarvis  would  tumble  himself  from  tho 
water  into  the  boat,  which  was  left  rocking  upon  the  billows,  and 
steady  it  for  his  comrade  to  get  in.  They  would  then  resume  their 
garments,  and  row  to  the  beach. 

One  afternoon  they  went  off  as  usual.  The  day  was  bright  and 
cloudless,  with  a  stiff  breeze.  Lyndsay  was  reading  aloud  to  Flora, 
as  she  sat  at  work  at  the  open  window  which  commanded  a  view 
of  the  whole  bay. 

"  There's  Davy  Jarvis  and  his  comrade,  putting  off  their  boat 
for  a  swim.  They  must  mind  what  they  are  about,"  said  Lyndsay ; 
"  the  wind  is  rather  too  blustering  for  their  water  frolic  to-day." 

lie  put  down  his  book,  and  continued  to  watch  the  lads  with 
some  interest.  The  boys  reached  their  accustomed  track  among 
the  waves  ;  and,  leaving  their  boat  as  usual,  seemed  to  enjoy  their 
sport  with  more  zest  than  ever.  Whilst  in  tho  water,  the  breeze 
freshened,  and  it  was  with  great  difficulty,  and  not  without  hard 
swimming,  that  the  lads  regained  their  boat,  which,  driven  before 
the  wind,  seemed  determined  to  reach  the  shore  without  them. 
They  succeeded  at  last,  dressed  themselves,  and  stood  in  for  the  land. 
A  long  line  of  heavy  surf  was  beating  violently  against  the  beach, 
and  by  some  mismanagement,  the  boat  got  capsized  among  the 
breakers.  One  lad  was  thrown  on  shore,  but  Davy  Jarvis  got 
entangled  in  the  surf,  which  beat  contiimally  over  him,  and  ren- 
dered all  the  efforts  of  himself  and  comrade  fruitless ;  and  the  brave 
boy  was  drownal  before  the  sailors  who  hurried  to  his  assistance 
could  rascuc  him  from  his  perilous  situation. 

Flora  had  watched  the  scene  with  a  degree  of  excitement  so 
intense,  that  it  almost  deprived  her  of  breath.  She  could  not 
believe  that  the  lad  covld  perish  within  the  reach  of  help,  and  so 
near  the  shore.  The  shrieks  of  the  mother,  and  the  mute  despair 
of  the  old  fisherman,  who  had  been  summoned  to  tho  spot,  too 


FLORA     lA'NDSAY. 


clearly  corroborated  the  report  of  Lynjlaay,  that  the  lad  was  indeed 
dead. 

After  this  fresh  calamity,  old  Jarvis  appeared  an  altered  man. 
His  sinewy  frame  became  bent  and  attenuuted,  his  step  ftll 
feebler,  his  hair  was  bleached  to  snowy  whiteness,  and  his  homely, 
tanned  features  assumed  an,  expression  of  stern  and  patient  endur- 
ance. It  was  evident  to  Flora  that  his  heart  was  breaking  for  the 
loss  of  his  children. 

Neptune  seemed  to  understand  it  all — to  comprehend  in  tho 
fullest  sense  his  master's  loss  and  his  present  sufferings.  He  would 
walk  slowly  by  the  Gsherman's  side,  and  whenever  he  paused  in  his 
unsteady,  aimless  ramble  along  the  beach,  Xcp  would  thrust  hia 
nose  into  his  hard  brown  hand,  or,  rearing  on  his  hind  legs,  embrace 
him  with  his  shaggy  fore-paws,  fawning  and  whining  to  attract  hia 
notice,  and  divert  him  from  hia  melancholy. 

Day  after  day,  during  the  long  bright  summer  of  1831,  Flora 
had  watched  the  old  man  come  to  the  ^pot  on  the  beach  where  the 
dead  body  of  his  son  first  touched  the  shore,  and  stand  there  for 
hours,  looking  out  over  the  broad  sea,  his  eyes  shaded  from  the 
rays  of  the  sun  by  his  bony,  red  hand,  as  if  he  expected  the  return 
of  the  lost  one.  During  these  fits  of  abstraction,  Nep  would  stretch 
himself  along  the  beach  at  the  fisherman's  feet,  his  head  sunk  be- 
tween his  fore-paws,  as  motionless  as  the  statue  of  a  dog  cut  out 
of  stone.  The  moment  the  old  man  dropped  the  raisetl  hand  from 
his  face,  Nep  would  leap  to  his  feet,  look  up  wistfully  into  his 
master's  eyes,  and  follow  him  home. 

This  touching  scene  had  drawn  tears  I'rom  Flora  more  than  once, 
and  she  loved  the  good  dog  for  his  devoted  attachment  to  the  grief- 
Btricken,  desolate  old  man.  When,  however,  the  fishing  season 
returned,  Jarvis  roused  himself  from  the  indulgence  of  hopeless 
grief.  The  little  cockle-shell  of  a  boat  was  once  more  launcheil 
upon  the  blue  sea,  and  Jarvis  might  daily  be  seen  spreading  ita 
tiny  white  sheet  to  the  breeze,  whih  the  noble  buff  Newfoundland 
dog  resumed  his  place  in  the  bow. 

Jarvis  came  regularly  every  day  to  tho  house  to  offer  fish  for 
Bale — cod,  whitings,  herrings,  whatever  fish  chance  had  given  to 
bis  net.  Flora  was  glad  to  observe  something  like  cheerfulness 
once  more  illumine  the  old  sailor's  face.  She  always  greeted  him 
with  kind  words,  and  inquired  affectionately  after  his  welfare ;  and, 


64 


FLOnA    LYNDSIT. 


>  le 


tj;n 


without  alluding  to  his  heavy  family  afflictioofl,  mado  him  seDsible 
that  she  dci'ply  sympathised  in  his  grief. 

Things  went  on  smoothly,  until  one  terrible  night  in  Octol)cr, 
Jarvis  and  his  only  remaining  son,  a  strong,  powerful  man  of  thirty, 
had  been  olF  with  several  experienced  sounen  in  the  pilotrboat,  to 
put  u  pilot  on  Y  \n\  a  large  v(5<sel  which  was  toiling  her  way 
through  the  storm  to  liOndon.  Coming  back,  the  wind  rose  to  a 
gale,  and  the  sailors,  in  trying  to  enter  the  liarbor,  ran  the  boat 
against  one  of  the  j)icrs  with  such  violence,  that  it  upset,  and  the 
whole  party  were  thrown  into  the  water. 

Old  Jarvis  was  an  admirable  swimmer,  and  soon  gained  tho 
beach,  as  did  most  of  the  others,  two  of  their  number  l)eing  rescued 
from  dc^ath  by  the  exertions  of  the  brave  dog.  One  alone  was  miss- 
ing— Harry  Jarvis  was  the  lost  man. 

From  that  hour  Flora  had  never  seen  old  Jarvis  or  his  dog. 
The  boat  lay  high  and  dry  upon  the  beach,  and  his  net  wa.s  still  sus- 
pended between  the  poles  wbere  it  had  been  left  to  dry,  andshecon- 
cludetl  tl'.at  Jarviri  had  not  survival  this  liust  terrible  blow.  Itwoa 
a  joyful  surprise,  tiierefore,  to  hear  that  he  was  not  only  alive,  but 
pursuing  his  old  calling. 

She  found  the  fisherman  leaning  against  the  open  kitchen-door, 
a  basket  of  fish  at  his  feet,  and  his  clear  grey  eyes  fixe<l  vacantly 
upon  the  silver  waves,  which,  flashing  and  murmuring  in  the  sun- 
light, came  racing  to  the  beach  below.  The  old  sailor's  wrinkled 
face,  once  so  ruddy  and  bronzed,  was  as  white  as  his  hair ;  his 
checks  had  fallen  in ;  and  deep  hollows  had  gathered  about  his 
temples  j  it  was  painful  to  observe  the  great  alteration  in  his 
appearance  since  they  last  met.  The  old  man  started  from  hia 
abstraction,  as  Fiona's  foot  soundetl  on  the  floor,  and  he  tried  to 
smile.  It  was  a  vain  attempt;  his  shrunken  features  instantly  con- 
tracted into  their  former  melancholy  expression. 

"  My  good  old  friend,"  said  Flora,  "  I  am  glad  to  see  you ;  I  was 
afraid  you  had  been  ill.    What  fish  have  you  got  for  me  ?" 

"  Eels,  Madam  ;  I  caught  them  in  the  river.  They  arn't  for 
sale,  but  just  a  little  present.  I  he'erd  you  wor  goin'  to  cross  tho 
salt  seas  to  Canady,  an'  I  had  a  mind  to  see  you  agin." 

*•  I  will  accept  them  with  pleasure,  Davy,  and  I  am  very  much 
obliged  to  you  for  your  kindness.  I  am  very  fond  of  eels — we  get 
them  so  seldom,  they  are  quite  a  treat.  I  have  not  seen  you  out  in 
the  boat  lately,  Jarvis  ?" 


FLORA    LTNnSAT. 


06 


;  I  waa 


•'  Miiybo  you'll  never  see  mo  out  in  her  agin,"  said  the  fisherman. 
•'  I'm  thinkiiij?  my  tlshinjj  days  are  'most  over ;  boat,  tackle  and 
muaster  arc  all  worn  out  together.  I've  parted  with  the  boat,  how- 
'8()inover.  An'  aa  to  the  sea,  I  allcrs  looked  upon  ita  broad  faco 
with  pleasure,  but  t'has  been  a  cruel  enemy  to  me  and  mine ;  my 
path,  I'm  thinking,  will  bo  over  it  no  more." 

riora  saw  the  tear  glisteninjj  in  the  old  man's  eye,  and  she  tried 
to  divert  his  attention  by  askin;^  him  what  ho  had  done  with  hia 
do^'— "  with  dear  old  '  Ne^?'  " 

"  I  shot  him."  The  seaman's  thin  lips  quivered,  and  his  wholo 
frame  tromblcd.  "  Ay,  I  shot  my  good  dog — my  brave,  faithful 
dog — the  best,  the  truest  friend  man  ever  had ;  an'  I've  niver  kno^  'd 
a  lm])py  hour  since." 

The  bright  drops  were  now  raining  down  the  old  man's  cheeks. 

Flora  reached  him  a  chair,  and  begged  him  to  sit  down.  Tho 
fisherman  mechanically  obeyed,  with  his  chin  sunk  between  his 
hands,  and  his  elbows  resting  on  his  knees.  For  some  minutes 
both  were  silent,  until  tho  old  man  said,  in  a  thick,  husky  voice — 

"  Yes,  I  shot '  Nep' — shot  him  with  my  own  hand.  It  wor  cruel 
and  wickinl  of  me  to  do  the  like,  but  I  wor  mad — stark,  staring 
mad,  and  who's  to  blame  ?  You  see,  my  lady,  he  wor  with  us  that 
terrible  Saturday  night,  when  we  went  off  to  put  the  pilot  on  board 
the  brig  Sally,  from  Shields.  Comin'  back  it  wor  pitch  dark,  an' 
the  sea  ninnin'  mountains  high,  Sam  Masters  ran  the  boat  plump 
upon  the  pier,  an'  we  wor  upset  on  the  bar.  Nep  saved  Sam  Mas- 
ters and  I  Jen  Hardy,  but  he  let  my  Harry  drown.  I  never  rebel  Iwl 
n;,'in'  tho  providence  of  God  till  then ;  but  I  trust  He'll  forgive 
what  the  old  man  said  in  his  mortal  distress.  Instead  of  thanking 
Him,  when  I  sor  that  so  many  wor  safe,  and  encouragin'  Nep  for 
haviug  saved  two  on  'em,  I  cursed  the  dog  for  an  ungrateful  bruto 
for  saving  s'ningers,  an*  letting  my  Harry  be  lost.  I  dashed  him 
off  wii  never  he'd  come  whining  around,  to  lick  my  hands  an'  mako 
friend?,  an'  when  I  got  home  I  took  down  the  old  gun — poor 
Harr\     ,'un — and  called  Nep  out  upon  the  cliff  an'  shot  him  dead. 

"  I  repented  the  moment  I  sor  him  drop.  It  wor  too  late  then. 
I  thought  that  both  Davy  and  Harry  would  have  blamed  me  for 
taking  the  poor  b-nte's  life — for  they  wor  mortal  fond  of  'im. 
The  next  morning  l  wor  up  by  daybreak,  and  down  to  the  piers 
in  the  little  boat  to  see  if  I  might  chance  to  light  upon  the  dead 
body. 


■a 


6G 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"  The  storm  was  over,  an'  in  rowing  'atwixt  the  piers,  I  sor 
Eummut  that  looked  like  the  thing  I  sought,  hanging,  as  it  wor,  to 
the  planking  of  the  pier.  I  steered  for  the  place,  an',  God  o' 
heaven  I  it  wor  the  body  of  ray  son  1  He  wor  jus^  two  feet  below 
the  water,  hanging  with  his  head  downwards.  'J'he  force  of  the 
waves  had  driven  him  upon  an  iron  stauncheon,  which  extended 
some  distance  from  the  pier ;  the  woodwork  to  which  it  belonged 
had  been  wrenched  away  in  the  storm.  It  had  passed  right  through 
Harry's  body,  and  held  him  fast.  And  the  dog — the  poor  dog — • 
had  tried  to  get  him  off;  he  had  dragged  at  his  jacket  and  shirt- 
collar,  till  they  wor  all  shred  to  bits,  and  hivd  only  given  over 
whin  he  found  it  of  no  use,  an'  then  did  what  he  could  to  save 
the'  rest  1  An'  I  killed  him — I,  that  should  have  fed  and  cherished 
him  to  his  dying  day — I  can  never  forgive  myself  for  that." 

"Do  not  distress  yourself,  Jarvis,  in  this  way.  No  one  will 
blame  you  for  what  you  did  in  such  a  distracted  state  of  mind," 
said  Flora,  though  she  was  grieved  to  the  heart  for  the  death  of  the 
noble  dog. 

"  You  are  right — you  are  just  right ;  I  was  mad  ;  and  you  must 
not  think  hard  of  a  poor,  broken-hearted  old  man.  My  sorrow  is 
'most  greater  than  I  can  bear.  It  will  not  be  for  long ;  I  feel  I'm 
goiii'  the  way  of  all  the  earth,  an'  it  matters  little  when  we  cast 
anchor  in  that  port,  whether  our  vovage  wor  short  or  long,  rough 
or  smooth,  when  the  righteous  Judgo  overhauls  our  vessel,  an'  lays 
bare  the  secrets  of  all  hearts.  I  trust  He'll  have  mercy  on  old  Davy 
Jarvis,  and  forgive  him  for  the  death  of  his  brave  dog." 

The  fisherman  took  the  eels  from  his  bssket,  and  grasping  Flora's 
hand  in  his  hard  horny  palm,  said,  "  May  the  Lord  gran'  you  pros- 
perity !  an'  bless  you  an'  your  husband  ar.'  tho  little  'un,  an'  bring 
you  safe  to  the  far  land  to  which  you  are  journeying !  May  it 
p-  ove  to  you  a  Icivon  of  rest  1    God  bless  you  !  good  bye !" 

Flora  looked  after  the  drooping  figure  of  the  lisheriiian  as  he 
.'^lowly  descevided  the  cliff,  and  she  though*  how  intense  nnist  have 
been  his  agony  in  that  dark  hour  of  utter  bereavement,  wliich  had 
tempted  him  to  sacrifice  his  dog  on  the  mere  supposition  that  he  hrd 
neglected  to  save  the  life  of  his  son. 

"  God  comfort  you  I  poor  Jarvis,"  she  said,  "  ^.ml  guide  yon  in 
peace  through  the  shadows  of  the  diirk  valley  that  stretchc-  its  long 
night  before  you.  'I'hc  grief  which  has  brought  your  grey  locks  in 
sorrow  to  the  grave  woa  enough  to  have  broken  a  sterner  hccrt." 


FLORA    LYXDSAr. 


CHAPTER   XI. 


ilDavy 

Flora'3 
ou  ])ro«- 

yiay  it 


you  in 
its  long 
ocks  ia 
:t." 


FLORA,  IN  SEARCH  OF  A  SERVANT,  HEARS  A  REAL  GHOST  STORY. 

Lyndsay  had  charged  Flora,  during  his  absence,  to  inquire  for  a 
female  servant,  to  accompany  them  to  Canada,  and  take  care  of 
the  baby  during  the  voyage.  Flora  was  very  roluctant  to  obey 
this  command,  though  she  knew  it  was  entirely  on  her  account 
that  the  request  was  made.  Her  health  was  still  very  bad,  and  her 
kind  husband  was  anxious  to  spare  her  any  additional  fatigue  lyid 
trouble.  She  much  doubted,  however,  whether  another  addetl  to 
their  party  would  not  rather  increase  than  diminish  her  anxiety, 
and  she  begged  hard  to  be  allowed  to  do  without.  To  this  propo- 
sition Lyndsay  would  not  listen  for  a  moment. 

"The  thing  is  impossible,  Flora,"  said  he,  very  impetuously, 
"  you  cannot  do  without ;  you  are  not  able  to  nurse  the  child.  I 
juust  insist  upon  your  hiring  a  woman  immediately." 

Flora  sighed.  "  There  will  be  plenty  of  women  in  the  steerage 
of  any  emigrant  vessel,  who  -for  the  sake  of  a  few  dollars  would 
gladly  render  me  all  the  assistance  I  require." 

"  You  must  not  trust  to  such  contingencies." 

"  But,  husband  dear,  consider  the  grciit  additional  expense,"  elie 

said,  coaxingly. 
"  Nonsense  ! — that  is  my  affair." 

"  I  should  like  to  have  my  own  way  in  this  matter,"  said  Flora, 
leaning  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder,  and  trying  to  win  him  into 
compliance  by  sundry  little  caresses.  "  I  know,  John,  that  I  aui 
in  the  right." 

"  And  those  who  love  you,  Flora,  and  wish  to  ppare  you  fatigue 
and  discomfort,  are  in  the  wrong.     Is  it  not  so  ?" 

This  la.st  speech  silence*!  his  wife,  but  did  not  convince  her  that 
she  V  ;  i  wrong.  Flora,  as  my  readers  must  long  ago  have  discov- 
crr .,  was  no  heroine  of  romance,  but  a  veritable  human  creature, 
tubject  to  all  the  faults  and  weakne?  •"  incidental  to  her  sex.  She 
wished  to  have  her  own  way,  and  was  ready  to  cry  that  she  could 
not  get  it.  Yet,  had  her  advice  been  acted  upon,  she  would  have 
been  spared  a  great  deal  of  sorrow  and  mortification,  which  greatly 
embittered  the  first  mouths  of  her  sojourn  'n  a  foreign  land. 

Pei-dons  emigrating  to  Canada  cannot  be  guilty  of  a  greater 


m 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


blunder  than  that  of  taking  ouf^rvanta  with  them,  which  is  sure 
to  end  in  loss  and  disappointment ;  for  tliey  no  sooner  set  foot  upon 
the  North  American  shores,  than  they  suddenly  become  possessed 
with  an  vltra  repvhlican  spirit.  The  chrysalis  has  burst  its  dingy 
shell ;  they  arc  no  longer  caterpillars,  but  gay  butterflies,  prepared 
to  bask  in  the  sun-blaze  of  popular  rights.  Ask  such  a  domestic 
to  blacken  your  shoes,  clean  a  knife,  or  fetch  a  pail  of  water  from 
the  well  at  the  door,  and  ten  to  one  she  will  turn  upon  you  ai 
fierce  as  a  lioness,  and  bid  you  do  it  yourself.  If  you  are  so  im- 
prudent as  to  insist  on  being  obeyed,  she  will  tell  you  to  hire 
another  in  her  place  ;  she  is  sure  of  twenty  situations  as  good  as 
youra,  to-morrow. 

She  is  right  in  hor  assertion,  Her  insolent  rejection  of  your 
commands  would  not  stand  at  all  in  her  way  of  procuring  a  new 
place.  And  although  cleaning  a  lady's  shoes,  and  bringing  in  a 
pail  of  water,  or  an  armful  of  wood,  is  by  no  means  such  disgust- 
ing employment  as  scouring  greasy  pots  and  scrubbing  the  floors, 
she  has  been  told  that  the  former  is  degrading  work,  not  fit  for  a 
woman,  and  she  is  now  in  a  free  country,  and  will  not  submit  to 
degradation. 

The  mistress,  who  in  England  was  termed  the  dear  lady,  now  de- 
generates into  the  woman,  while  persons  in  their  own  class,  and 
even  beggars  seeking  for  alms,  are  addressed  as  Ma'am  and  Sir. 
How  particular  they  arc  in  enforcing  these  titles  from  one  to 
another  ;  how  persevering  in  depriving  their  employers  of  any  term 
of  respect  I  One  would  imagine  that  they  not  only  consideretl 
themselves  on  an  equality,  but  that  ignorance  and  vulgarity  mado 
them  vastly  superior.  It  is  highly  amusing  to  watch  from  a  dis- 
tance these  self-made  ladies  and  gentlemen  sporting  their  borrowed 
plumes. 

Stine  years  after  she  had  been  settled  in  Canada,  Flora  picked 
up  a  noiT  which  had  been  thrown  out  as  wast<?i  paper,  and  which 
waa  luldresscl  to  the  father  of  a  very  dirty,  dishonest  girl,  whom 
she  had  dismissed  from  her  service  for  sundry  petty  frauds,  a  few 
weeks  before.  It  wac  addressed  to  Edward  Brady,  Esq.,  and  ran 
as  follows : — 

•*  Honored  Sir — The  company  of  self  and  Wy,  is  respectfully 
Bolii'ited  at  a  contribuiioi  bull,  to  be  given  next  Tnursday  evcninj? 
at  the  Three  King's  Inn.  Dancing  to  commence  at  eight  o'clocK 
precisely.  „,         ,    )  Patrick  M  alone,  Esq, 

^  ^^'''^'^''  \  John  Cauboll,  Esq.'' 


■lamMm 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


All  the  parties  herein  uamcd  werejxirsons  of  the  very  lowest  class, 
and  the  titles  thus  pompously  bestowed  upon  themselves,  rendered 
the  whole  aQiiir  exquisitely  rcdiculous.  At  a  contribtUion  ball, 
each  person  brings  a  share  of  the  entertainment.  Flora's  maid  had 
stolei  I  a  large  quantity  of  sugar  for  her  part  of  the  feast,  and  was 
discovered  in  the  act. 

In  compliance  with  Lyndsay'a  request,  Flora  now  set  diligently 
to  Avork  to  inquire  for  a  girl  willing  to  emigrate  with  them  to  Can- 
ada, in  the  capacity  of  nurse  to  her  baby.  She  had  scarcely  made 
her  wishes  public,  before  the  cottage  was  beset  with  matrons, 
widows  and  maids,  both  old  and  young,  all  anxious  to  take  a  trip 
acrass  the  water,  and  try  their  fortunes  in  Canada. 

The  first  person  who  presented  herself  as  a  candidate  for  emi- 
gration, was  a  coarse,  fat,  she-clown,  with  huge  retl  fists  and  cheeks, 
"  as  broad  and  as  reil  as  a  pulpit-cushion."  On  being  shown 
into  Flora's  little  parlor,  she  stood  staring  at  her  with  her  arms 
stuck  in  her  sides,  and  her  wide  mouth  distended  from  oar  to  ear, 
with  a  grin  so  truly  uncouth  and  comic,  that  Mrs.  Lyndsay  could 
scarcely  restrain  her  laughter ;  with  a  downward  je^k  of  her  broad, 
8haix>less  person,  meant  for  u  courtosy,  she  burst  out  in  a  rude, 
vulgar  voice — 

•*  Hc'eard,  Marm,  yah  wanted  a  gurl  to  go  with  yah  to  Canntv- 
dah?" 

•'  I  do.    Who  sent  you  up  to  me?" 

"  Whoa  sent  oie  up  ?    Oie  scut  up  moiself." 

"What  is  your  name?" 

"  Moi  neame  ?  Is't  moi  neame  yah  wants  to  knowah  ?  Wall, 
moi  neame  is  Sarc  Ann  Pack  ;  feather  warks  at  Meaater  Turner's." 

"  Have  you  ever  worked  out,  or  been  usei!  l?  tuke  care  of  chil- 
dren ?" 

"  "Why,  yecs,  oie  'spcct  oie  ha'.  Moother  has  ton  on  'em.  Oio 
be  the  oldest  on  'em.  Oi've  had  nursing  cnoof,  au'  wants  to  get 
quit  on  it." 

"I  am  afraid,  Sarah,  you  will  not  suit  me." 

"  How  dew  yjdi  noa,  Marm,  till  yah  tries?" 

"  You  are  very  slatternly,  and  I  wanted  a  clean,  tidy,  active  girl 
to  nurse  my  baby." 

"Sure  moi  does  is  clane  cnoof,  and  good  cnoof,  for  to  live 
amongst  the  sadvidgcs  ?" 

**  You'll  be  put  to  no  ouch  trial,"  said  Flora,  laughing,  in  spite 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


t  ^ 


of  herself,  "  without  you  reckon  mo  and  my  husband  sadvagea.  Oan 
you  wash  and  iron  ?" 

"  Noa.    But  'spose  oic  cud  lam." 

"  What  work  can  you  do  ?" 

"  'Spect  anything  yah  sets  oi^  to.  Oie  can  make  doomplings, 
milk  cows,  and  keep  the  pot  a  bilin'." 

"  And  what  wages  do  you  expect  for  such  services  ?" 

"  Is  it  to  goor  to  Cannadah  ?  Oh,  oie  'spects  three  punds  o' 
month  for  the  loike  o'  that." 

"  You  must  stop  at  home  then,  my  good  girl,  and  boil  tlie  dump- 
lings," said  Flora.  *'  Indeed,  I  cannot  imagine  what  induced  you 
to  come  up  here  to  offer  me  your  services.  You  literally  can  do 
nothing,  for  which  you  expect  exorbitant  wages.  Why  do  you 
wish  to  leave  your  friends,  to  go  out  with  strangers  to  Canada?" 

*'  That's  moi  consarn,"  said  the  girl,  with  one  of  her  gigantic 
expansions  of  mouth.  "  Oie  he'card  'twas  a  mortal  good  place  for 
maids  getting  married.  Husbands  arc  scarce  here,  so  oise  thought, 
oise  might  as  well  try  moi  chance  as  the  re^t  o'un.  Won't  yah 
take  oie?"    Flora  shook  her  head. 

The  girl  twirled  the  strings  of  her  checked  apron,  "  Mayhap,  yah 
won't  get  anoder  so  willin'  to  go  as  I'se  be." 

'♦  Perhaps  not.  But  I  want  a  person  of  some  experience — one  who 
has  been  used  to  service,  and  could  bring  a  good  character  from  her 
last  employer." 

"  Karaktah  1  karaktah  1"  said  the  girl,  contemptuously.  "What 
need  of  karaktah  in  such  a  place  as  Cannadah  ?  Folk  a'  go  there 
need  na  karaktah,  or  they  might  jeest  as  well  bide  to  whome." 

This  last  declaration  settled  the  matter,  and  Flora,  not  without 
some  difficulty,  got  rid  of  the  promising  candidate  for  matrimony 
and  emigration.  Her  place  was  instantly  supplied  by  a  tall,  hard- 
featured,  middle-aged  woman,  who  had  been  impatiently  waiting  for 
Miss  Pack's  dismissal,  in  the  kitchen,  and  who  now  rushed  upon  the 
scene,  followed  by  three  rude  children,  from  six  to  ten  years  of  age, 
a  girl,  and  two  impudenirlo  king  boys,  who  ranged  themselves  in 
front  of  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  with  open  mouths,  and  eyes  distended  with 
eager  curiosity,  in  order  to  attract  her  observation,  and  indulge 
themselves  in  a  downright  stare. 

"  Well,  my  good  woman,  and  what  is  your  business  with  mc?" 
said  Flora,  not  at  all  prepossessed  by  any  of  the  group. 


■r=s«     -- 


->t^ 


FLORA    LYXDSAT. 


« 


ges.  Oan 


omplings, 


punds  o' 

;lic  durap- 
3uced  you 
y  can  do 
ly  do  you 
mada?" 
•  gigantic 
I  place  for 
e  thought, 
Von't  yah 

ayhap, yah 

—one  who 
from  her 

"What 
go  there 
me." 

t  without 
latrimony 
all,  hard- 
aiting  for 
upon  the 
•8  of  age, 
selves  in 
ided  with 
indulge 

lith  mc?" 


"Are  you  the  mistress?"  asked  the  woman,  dropping  a  cour- 
tesy. 

Flora  answered  in  the  affirmative. 

"  My  business  is  to  go  to  Canady ;  but  I  have  not  the  means.  I 
am  a  poor  widow ;  my  husband  died  of  the  fever  three  years  ago, 
and  left  me  with  these  children  to  drag  along  the  best  way  I  could. 
^Ve  have  had  hard  times,  I  can  tell  you,  Ma'am,  and  I  should  bo 
main  glad  to  better  my  condition,  which  I  think  I  might  do,  if  I 
could  get  out  to  Canady.  I  heard  that  you  wanted  a  nurse  for  your 
baby  during  the  voyage,  and  I  should  be  glad  to  engage  with  you, 
if  wo  can  agree  as  to  the  terms." 

"  What  are  your  terms  ?" 

"  For  you,  Ma'am,  to  pay  the  passage  of  me  and  the  three  chil- 
dren over,  and  I  to  attend  upon  you  and  the  child." 

"  But,  my  good  woman,  I  have  only  one  little  child  for  you  to 
take  charge  of,  and  you  cannot  expect  me,  for  the  trifling  services 
that  you  could  render,  to  psiy  your  passage  over,  and  that  of  your 
family." 

"Sure  you  might  be  glad  of  tlw  chance,"  said  the  sturdy  dame. 
"  It  is  not  everbo<ly  that  would  take  service  with  you  to  go  there. 
I  would  not  trouble  you  longer  than  the  voyage.  I  have  friends 
of  my  own  at  Montreal,  who  have  written  for  me  to  come  out  to 
them  ;  and  so  I  would  long  ago,  if  I  had  had  the  means." 

"  If  they  want  you,  they  may  pay  your  passage,"  said  Flom, 
disgusted  with  the  selfishness  of  her  new  acquaintance.  "  It  would 
1)0  less  trouble  to  mc  to  nurse  my  own  child,  than  incur  the  respon- 
sibility of  three  that  did  not  belong  to  me." 

The  woman  collected  her  young  barbarians  from  the  difTcront 
quarters  of  the  room,  where  they  were  reconnoitring  the  attractions 
of  the  place,  and  withdrew  with  a  scowl ;  and  Flow's  nurse,  Mrs. 
Clarke,  shortly  after  entered  the  room,  with  little  Joscpliine  in  her 
arms. 

"  Well,  nurse,"  said  Flora,  giving  way  to  a  hearty  laugh,  "  did 
you  see  those  queer  people  who  want  me  to  tako  them  out  as  a  ven- 
ture to  Canada  ?" 

"  A  losing  speculation  that  would  be,  if  we  may  judge  by  looks 
an<l  manners,"  said  the  old  lady ;  "  but,  indeed,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  it 
will  be  no  easy  matter  to  find  just  what  you  want.  It  is  not  every 
one  to  whom  I  would  trust  the  dear  baby." 

Then  sitting*  down  in  the  nursing  chair,  Rnd  hushing  Joscy  on 


Mb 


m 


FLORA     LYNDSAY. 


her  knee,  sho  continued,  "  I  have  been  thinking  of  you  and  the 
child  a  great  deal  since  I  heard  you  were  bent  on  going  to  Canada ; 
and  if  you  think  that  I  could  be  of  any  service  to  yon,  I  would  go 
with  you,  myself.  I  ask  no  wages — nothing  of  you,  beyond  a  homo 
for  my  old  age." 

Mrs.  Clarke  was  a  kind,  amiable,  good  woman,  but  very  feeble, 
nervous,  and  sickly,  and  very  little  qualified  for  the  ariuous  and 
fatiguing  life  she  had  chosen. 

"  My  dear  nurse,"  said  Flora,  clasping  her  hand  in  her  own,  "  I 
should  only  be  too  happy  to  have  you.  But  you  are  old  and  in 
delicate  health ;  the  climate  would  kill  you ;  I  much  doubt 
whether  you  could  stand  the  voyage.  I  cannot  be  so  selfish  as  to 
take  you  from  your  home  and  friends  at  your  time  of  life.  But 
take  off  your  hat  and  shawl,  and  we  will  talk  the  matter  over." 

The  old  woman  laid  the  now  sleeping  babe  in  the  cradle,  and 
resumed  her  seat  with  a  sigh. 

"  It  is  this  want  of  a  home  which  makes  me  anxious  to  go  with 
you.  It  is  hard  to  be  dependent  upon  the  caprice  of  brothers,  in 
one's  old  age.  Thirty  years  ago  and  life  wore  for  me  a  very  diller- 
cut  a<5i)ect." 

"  Nurse,"  said  Flora,  who  was  very  fond  of  the  good  old  body, 
who  had  attended  her  with  the  greatest  care  and  tenderness,  through 
a  long  and  dangerous  illness ;  "  how  comes  it  that  such  a  pretty 
woman  as  you  must  have  been, did  not  marry  in  your  youth?  1  can 
scarcely  imagine  that  nature  ever  meant  you  for  an  old  maid." 

**  Nature  never  made  any  woman  to  be  an  old  maid,"  said 
Nurse ;  "  God  does  nothing  in  vain.  "Women  were  sent  into  the 
world  to  be  wives  and  mothers  ;  and  there  are  very  few  who  don't 
entertain  the  hope  of  being  so  at  some  period  of  their  lives.  I 
should  not  be  the  forlorn,  desolate  creature  I  am  to-day,  if  I  had 
had  a  snug  home,  and  a  good  husband  to  make  the  fireside  cheery, 
and  children  together  about  my  knees,  and  make  me  feel  young 
again,  while  listening  to  their  simple  prattle. 

"  I  thought  to  have  been  a  happy  wife  once,"  continue*!  Nurse, 
sadly ;  "  a  heavy  calamity  that  broke  another  heart  besides  mine, 
laid  all  ray  hopes  in  the  dust,  and  banished  from  my  mind  the  idea 
of  marriage  for  ever.  Did  I  never  tell  you  the  story,  Ma'am  ?  A 
few  words  will  often  contain  the  history  of  events  that  embittereil 
Q  whole  life.  Whilst  I  am  hemming  this  little  pinafore  for  Miss 
Joscy,  I  will  tell  you  tho  talo  of  my  early  grief. 


I 


K. _ 


FLORA    LYXDSAY. 


H 


1  and  the 

)  Canada ; 

would  }^o 

i}d  a  homo 

cry  feeble, 
luous  uiid 

T  own, "  I 
>ld  and  in 
ch  doubt 
ilfish  as  to 
life.  But 
'  over." 
jradle,  and 

to  go  with 
rothera,  in 
very  diller- 

I  old  body, 
fl,  through 
I  a  pretty 
ith?  1  can 
laid." 

laid,"  said 
it  into  the 
Iwho  don't 
lives.  I 
|,  if  I  had 
le  cheery, 
IxjI  young 

id  Nurse, 
Jes  mine, 

the  idea 
?    A 

ibittercii 
lor  Miss 


% 


■0 


**  My  father  was  a  native  of  this  town,  and  captain  of  a  small 
vessel  employed  in  the  coal-trade,  which  plied  constantly  between 
this  port  and  Newcastle  and  Shields.  He  owned  most  of  the 
shares  in  her,  was  reckoned  an  excellent  sailor,  and  was  so  fortu- 
nate as  to  have  escaped  the  usual  dangers  attendant  upon  the  coast 
trade,  never  having  been  wrecked  in  his  life, — f  hich  circumstanco 
had  won  for  him  the  nickname  of  '  Lucky  Billy,'  by  which  he  waa 
generally  known  in  all  the  seai)ort  towns  along  the  coast. 

"  I  was  the  eldest  of  a  large  family,  and  the  ouly  girl.  My 
mother  died  when  I  was  fourteen  years  of  age,  and  all  the  cares 
of  (.he  household  early  devolved  upon  me ;  my  father  was  very  fond 
of  me,  and  so  proi  1  of  my  good  looks,  tluit  his  ship  was  christened 
the  Pretty  Betsy,  in  honor  of  me. 

"  Father  not  only  earned  a  comfortable  living,  but  saved  enough 
to  build  those  two  neat  stone  cottages  on  the  East-cliff.  We  lived 
in  the  one  which  my  brother  now  occupies ;  the  other,  which  is 
divided  from  it  by  a  nanow  alley,  into  which  the  back  doors  of 
both  open,  was  reutinl  for  many  years  by  the  widow  of  a  revenue 
oflicor  and  her  two  sons. 

"  Mrs.  Arthur's  husband  liad  been  killed  in  a  fray  with  the 
smugglers,  and  she  ciijoyed  a  small  government  pension,  which 
enabled  her  to  bring  up  her  boys  decently,  and  maintain  a  respect- 
able appearance.  My  father  trial  his  best  to  induce  Mrs.  Arthur 
to  be  his  second  wife,  but  she  steadily  refused  his  offer,  though  the 
fiunily  continued  to  live  on  terms  of  the  strictest  friendship. 

"  Mrs.  Arthur's  sons,  John  and  David,  were  the  handsomest  and 

cleverest  lads  of  their  class,  between  this  and  the  port  of  Y . 

They  both  followed  the  sea,  and  after  serving  their  apprenticeships 
with  my  father,  John  got  the  command  of  the  Nancy,  a  new  vessel 
that  was  employed  in  the  merchant  trade,  and  made  short  voyages 
between  this  and  London.  David,  who  was  two  years  younger, 
sailed  with  his  brother  as  mate  of  the  Nancy. 

"  David  and  I  had  been  sweethearts  from  our  school-days — from  a 
child  in  frocks  and  trousers,  he  had  always  calletl  mo  "  his  dear  little 
wife."  Time  only  strengthened  our  attachment  to  each  other, 
and  my  father  and  his  mother  were  well-pleased  with  the  match. 
It  was  settled  by  all  parties,  tljat  we  were  to  be  married  directly 
David  could  get  captain  of  a  ship. 

"  Mrs.  Arthur  was  very  proud  of  her  sons  ;  but  David,  who  was 
by  far  the  handsomest  of  the  two,  was  her  especial  fiftvwite.  I  oeYer 


74 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


saw  the  young  sailor  leave  the  hon?e  witliont  kissing  his  mother,  or 
return  from  a  voyage  without  bringing  licra  present.  I  used  to 
tell  him,  *  there  was  only  one  person  lie  loved  better  than  me,  and 
that  was  his  mother  ;'  ami  he  would  laugh,  and  say, — '  Not  better 
lictsy — but  'tis  a  different  love  altogether." 

"  I  must  confess  I  was  rather  jc-alous  of  his  mother.  I  did  not 
wish  him  to  love  her  leas,  but  to  love  me  more.  Whenever  he  left 
us  for  sea,  he  used  to  tell  me,  the  very  last  thing,  *  Show  your  love  to 
mo,  dear  IJctsy,  by  being  kind  to  my  dear  old  mother.  When  you 
are  my  wife,  I  will  repay  it  with  interest." 

"During  his  ab3on!cc,  I  Jtlways  went  every  day  to  see  Mrs.  Ar- 
thur, and  to  render  her  any  service  in  my  power.  She  was  very 
fond  of  me — always  calling  me  '  her  little  (Vanghtcr — her  own  dear 
Betay.'  Iler  convei"sation  woa  always  about  her  sons,  and  David 
in  particular,  which  rendered  these  visits  very  agreeable  to  me,  wha 
loved  David  better  than  anything  else  under  heaven.  Ife  was 
never  out  of  my  thoughts,  I  worshipped  him  so  completely. 

"  It  was  the  latter  end  of  February  that  the  Arthurs  made 
their  last  voyage  together.  David  was  to  ?ail  as  captain,  in  a  lino 
merchant-ship,  the  first  of  May  j  and  everything  had  been  arranged 
for  our  marriage,  which  was  to  take  phxcc  the  tenth  of  April ;  and 
I  was  to  make  a  bridal  tour  to  London  with  ray  husband  in  tho 
new  ship.  I  was  wild  with  anticipation  and  delight,  and  would  le4 
my  work  drop  from  my  hands  twenty  tinics  a  day^  with  building 
castles  for  the  future.  No  other  girl's  huslmud  would  be  able  to 
rival  my  husband  ;  no  home  could  be  as  liappy  as  my  home  :  no 
bride  so  well  beloved  as  me. 

"  It  was  the  twentieth  of  March,  18 —  ;  I  recollect  it  as  well 
as  if  it  were  only  yestenlay.  The  day  was  bright,  dear,  and  cold, 
with  high  winds  and  a  very  stormy  sea.  7'he  Nancy  had  been  ex- 
pected to  make  her  port  all  tliat  week,  and  Mrs.  Arthur  was  very 
uneasy  at  her  delay.  She  was  never  happy  or  contented  when  her 
sons  were  at  sea,  but  in  a  constant  fidget  of  anxiety  and  fear.  She 
did  not  like  both  sailii^  in  the  same  vessel.  '  It  is  too  moch.'  sho 
would  say — '  the  safety  of  two  lives  oat  of  one  family — to  be  trust- 
ed to  one  keel.  This  morning  she  was  more  fretful  and  nervous 
than  usual." 

'"What  can  these  foolish  boys  be  thinking  of,"  Belay,  to  delay 
their  voyage  in  this  way  ?  They  will  in  all  probability  be  caught 
in  the  equinoctial  gales.    David  promised  mc  faithfully  to  be  back 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


75 


lother,  OT 

[  used  to 

me,  and 

ot  better 

[  did  not 

rcr  he  left 
mrlove  to 
W^hcn  yoa 

!  Mrs.  Ar- 
5  was  very 
own  dear 
vnd  David 
to  me,  who 
He  was 
cly. 

Imrs  made 
n,  in  a  fine 
;n  arranged 
Vpril ;  and 
and  in  tho 
would  let 
buildinj? 
be  able  to 
home :  no 

it  as  well 
and  cold, 
d  been  ex- 
was  very 
when  her 
fear.  She 
jh.'  sho 
be  trust- 
l  nervous 

to  delay 

|be  caught 

be  back 


before  the  eighteenth.  Dear  me !  how  the  wind  blows  I  Tho  very 
sound  of  it  is  enough  to  chill  one's  heart.  What  a  stormy  sea  I  I 
hope  they  will  not  sail  till  the  day  after  to-morrow.' 

"  Now,  I  felt  a  certain  conviction  in  my  own  mind  that  they  had 
sailed,  and  were  at  that  moment  on  the  sea ;  but,  I  must  confi>ss, 
I  apprehends]  no  danger.  It  might  be  that  tier  liears  hindered  mo 
from  indulging  fears  of  my  own. 

"  '  Don't  alarm  yourself  needlessly,  dear  Mother,'  said  I,  kissing 
her  cold,  pale  check.  '  The  Naney  is  a  new  ship — the  lads  bravo, 
experienced  sailors.  There  is  not  the  least  cause  for  uneasiness. 
They  have  weathered  far  worse  gales  before  now.  They  have, 
father  says,  the  wind  and  tide  in  their  favor.  It  is  moonlight  now 
o'  nights ;  and  I  hope  we  shall  see  them  merry  and  vfell  before 


mornmg. 


'' '  God  grant  you  may  be  right,  Betsy  I  A  mother's  heart 
is  a  hot-bed  of  anxiety.  Mine  feels  as  heavy  as  lead.  My 
dreiims,  too,  were  none  of  the  brightest.  I  thought  I  was  tossing 
in  an  open  boat,  in  just  such  a  stormy  sea  all  night ;  and  was 
constantly  calling  on  David  to  save  me  from  drowning ;  and  I 
awoke  shrieking,  and  struggling  with  the  great  billows  that  were 
dragging  mo  .^own.' 

" '  Who  cares  for  dreams?'  I  said.  Iler's,  I  would  have  it,  was 
one  of  good  omen  ;  for,  though  she  fought  with  the  storm  all  night, 
she  was  not  drowned.  So  it  would  be  with  the  lads :  they  might 
encounter  a  gale,  and  get  a  severe  buflFeting,  but  would  arrive  safe 
at  last. 

"  *  I  wisli  it  may  be  so,'  she  said,  with  a  sigh.  '  But  I  fcH  just 
the  same  sinking  at  the  heart  the  night  my  husband  was  killed, 
when  there  appeared  no  cause  for  uneasiness.' 

"  I  remained  all  day  with  the  old  iady,  trying  to  raise  her  spirits. 
She  paid  very  little  attention  to  all  my  lively  chat ;  but  would 
stand  for  hours  at  her  back-window,  that  commanded  a  view  of  the 
bay,  gazing  at  the  sea.  The  huge  breakers  came  rolling  and  toiling 
to  the  shore,  filling  the  air  with  their  hoarse  din.  A  vessel  hove 
in  sight,  running  under  close-reefed  topsails,  and  made  signals  for  a 
pilot 

*' '  Ah !'  I  exclaimed,  joyfully  ;  '  that  is  Captain  Penny's  old 
ship,  Molly.  If  she  has  rode  out  the  gale,  you  may  dismiss  your 
fears  about  the  Nancy.  They  have  launched  the  pilot-boat.  See 
how  she  dances  like  a  feather  on  the  waves !    AVhy,  Mother,  dear,' 


n 


0 


tf 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 

I  cried,  turning  to  Mrs.  Arthur,  who  was  watching  the  boat,  with 
the  large  tears  trickling  down  her  cheeks, '  is  it  not  weak,  almost 
wicked  of  you,  to  doubt  God's  providence  in  this  way  ?' 

"  '  Ah !  how  I  wish  it  were  their  vessel  I"  she  sobbed. 

"  *  Captain  Penny's  wife  and  children  would  not  thank  you  for 
that  wish,'  said  I.  .'  How  glad  I  am  that  the  good  old  man  is 
safe  I" 

*'  The  day  wore  away — a  long  day  for  us  both.  The  gale  did 
not  increase,  and  Mrs.  Arthur  at  last  began  to  listtm  to  reason. 
The  moon  rose  high  and  bright ;  and  after  seeing  the  old  lady  to 
her  bed,  I  went  home  to  give  my  father  and  the  boys  their  su[)pcr. 

"  I  found  father  very  cross  for  having  waited  so  long.  '  What 
the  devil,  Betsy  1'  cried  he,  '  kept  you  so  late  ?  The  lads  and  I 
have  been  starving  for  the  last  hour.  When  girls  get  sweethearts, 
they  can  think  of  nothing  else.' 

"  *  Mrs.  Arthur  felt  anxious  about  her  sons,  and  I  stayed  with 
her.' 

"  ' What's  the  old  fool  afraid  of?  This  cupful  of  wind,  Penny's 
old  Molly  rode  it  out  bravely.  He  told  me  he  left  the  Arthurs  in 
the  river.  He  thought  they  would  be  in  by  daybreak.  Come,  Ijo 
quick,  girl  I  As  I  am  to  lose  you  so  roon,  I  would  make  the  most 
of  you  while  you  belong  to  me.' 

•*  His  cheerful,  hearty  manner  helped  to  raise  my  spirits,  which 
had  been  depressed  by  Mrs.  Arthur's  fretful  anticipations  of  evil. 
I  bustled  hither  and  thither,  laughed  and  sung,  and  cooked  father's 
mess  of  fresh  fish  so  much  to  his  satisfaction,  that  he  declared  I 
should  make  a  jewel  of  a  wife,  and  that  he  had  not  made  up  his 
mind  whether  he  would  part  with  such  a  good  cook.  AVithout  he 
married  again,  he  was  afraid  he  would  not  get  such  another. 

" '  You  must  be  quick,  then,'  said  I,  *  or  you  will  not  have  me 
for  your  bridesmaid.  I  give  you  just  three  weeks  for  the  court- 
ship, for  I  shan't  remain  single  one  day  longer  to  cook  the  wedding 
dinner  for  you.' 

"  '  You  are  saucy,'  said  he,  filling  his  pipe.  '  Davy  will  have  to 
take  the  helm  himself,  if  he  would  keep  you  on  the  right  tack. 
Clear  the  decks  now,  and  be  off  to  your  bed.  If  the  gale  lulls,  I 
shall  sail  early  in  the  morning.' 

"  I  removed  the  supper-things,  and  before  I  lighted  my  candle, 
lingered  for  a  few  minutes  at  the  back  window,  to  take  a  last  view 
of  the  sea.  It  was  a  stormy,  but  very  beautiful  night.  The  heavens 


L 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


m 


were  without  a  cloud.  The  full  moon  cast  broken  gleams  of  silver 
upon  the  restless,  tossing  waters,  which  scattered  them  into  a  thou- 
sand fragments  of  dazzling  brightness,  as  the  heavy  surf  rolled  in 
thunder  uc^uinst  the  beach. 

"  '  Has  the  gale  freshened,  father  ?'  said  I,  anxiously. 

"  •  Not  a  bit  of  it.  Say  your  prayers,  Betsy,  and  trust  in 
rrovidoiicc.  Your  lover  is  as  safe  in  his  good  ship  to-night,  as  in 
his  bc<l  at  home.' 

"  He  pulled  me  on  to  his  knee,  and  kissed  me,  and  I  went  up  to 
beil  with  a  lighter  heart. 

"  A  few  minutes  later  I  was  fast  asleep.  I  don't  know  how  long 
tins  sleep  lastetl,  but  I  awoke  with  hearing  David  Arthur  calling 
boneatli  my  window.  Ills  mother's  window  and  mine  both  fronted 
the  cliff,  and  were  in  a  line  with  each  other.  '  Thank  God  I  David 
is  safe !'  I  cried,  as  I  sprang  joyfully  from  my  bed,  and  threw  open 
the  casement. 

"  Thf.'re  he  was,  sure  enough,  standing  in  the  moonlight,  directly 
beneath  the  window — his  norwestcr  Hung  far  back  on  his  head, 
his  vellow  curls  hanQ:innr  in  wet  masses  on  his  shoulders,  and  his 
clothes  dripping  with  the  salt  spray.  The  moon  shone  forth  on 
liis  upturned  face,  lie  looked  very  palo  and  cold,  and  his  oyea 
were  fixed  intently  upon  his  mother's  chamber-window.  Before  I 
could  spoak,  he  cried  out,  in  his  rich,  manly  tones — 

*• '  Mother,  dearest  mother,  I  am  come  home  to  you.  Open  the 
door,  and  let  me  in  !' 

"  '  Stay,  Davy,  darling — stay  one  moment,  and  I  will  let  you  in. 
Yonr  mother's  asleep ;  but  I  can  open  the  back-door  with  my  key. 
Oh  !  I'm  so  happy,  so  thankful,  that  you  arc  safe.' 

"  I  threw  my  clothes  on  as  fiust  as  I  could,  but  my  hands  trembled 
60  from  excitement,  that  I  could  scarcely  fasten  a  string.  A  cold 
chill  was  creeping  through  my  wliolc  frame,  and,  in  spite  of  the 
joy  I  felt,  I  involuntarily  burst  into  tears.  Dashing  away  tho 
tniwelcome  drops  with  tho  back  of  my  hand,  I  bounded  down  the 
stairs,  unlocked  the  back-door  that  led  into  the  alley,  and  in 
another  moment  stood  alone  on  the  cliff. 

'"David,  where  are  you?'  I  cried.  But  no  David  was  there. 
I  glanced  all  round  tho  wide,  open  space  :  not  an  object  was  mov- 
ing over  its  surface.  A  deep  stillness  reigned  all  around,  only 
interrupted  by  the  solemn  thunder  of  the  waters,  whose  hollow 


18 


FLORA    LTND8AY. 


l^'i 


I 


r 

surgin^^  against  the  Mhore  rendered  the  Bolitode  of  the  midnight 
hour  more  profound. 

"Again  I  felt  those  cold  chills  steal  through  me — again  the 
unbidden  tears  streamed  down  my  cheeks. 

"  '  What  can  have  becoine  of  hira  ?'  said  I,  quite  bewildered  with 
surprise  and  fear ;  '  he  must  liiive  got  in  at  the  back  window ! — I 
will  go  to  his  mother — I  shall  find  him  with  her  1' 

"  The  key  I  held  in  my  hand  fitted  both  locks  :  I  went  into  Mrs. 
Arthur's,  lighted  the  candle  that  I  had  left  on  her  kitchen  dresser^ 
and  went  up  to  her  chamber.  She  staited  up  in  the  bed  as  I  opened 
the'door. 

" '  Good  God  I  Betsy,'  she  cried,  '  is  that  you  ?  I  thought  I 
heard  David  call  me.' 

"  '  And  so  he  did,'  I  said ;  '  he  came  under  the  window  just  now, 
and  called  to  you  to  let  him  in.  I  told  him  to  wait  till  I  could 
dress  myself,  and  I  would  come  down  and  open  the  door.  Is  he 
not  here  ?' 

" '  No,'  said  his  mother,  her  face  turning  as  white  as  her  cap ; 
*  you  must  have  been  dreaming.' 

"  *  Dreaming !'  said  I,  ratlier  indignantly  ;  '  you  need  not  try  to 
persuade  me  out  of  my  senses — I  saw  him  with  my  own  eyes ! — 
beard  him  with  my  own  ears !  and  spoke  to  him  !  What  else  will 
convince  you  ?  He  has  gone  back  to  the  ship  fgr  John — I  will 
breeze  up  the  fire,  put  on  the  kettle,  and  get  something  cooked  for 
their  supper.  After  buffeting  about  in  this  storm,  they  will  be  cold 
and  hungry.' 

"  Mrs.  Arthur  soon  joined  mo.  She  could  not  believe  that  I  had 
spoken  to  David,  though  she  fancied  that  she  had  heard  him  her- 
self, and  was  in  a  fever  of  anxiety,  pacing  to  and  fro  the  kitchen 
floor,  and  opening  the  door  every  minute  to  look  out.  I  felt  almost 
provoked  by  her  want  of  faith. 

"  '  If  the  ship  were  in,'  she  muttered,  '  he  would  have  been  in  long 
ago,  to  toll  me  thivt  all  was  safe.  He  knows  how  uneasy  I  always 
am  when  he  and  his  brother  arc  away.  Betsy  must  have  been 
deceived.' 

"  *  Mother,  dear — indeed,  what  I  tell  you  is  true!' 

"  And  I  repeated  to  her  for  the  twentieth  time,  perhaps,  what 
David  had  said,  and  described  his  appearance. 

*•  Hour  after  hour  passed  away,  but  no  well-known  footstep,  or 
dearly-loved  voiced,  disturbed  our  lonely  vigil.     The  kettle  aim- 


ri.ORA     LYXDSAT. 


19 


TALTod  drowsily  on  the  linb  ;  ^frs.  Arthur,  tlr«l  out  with  impalicnt 
frcttiii;,'  ut  htT  sons  dcUiy,  Iwd  thrown  Irt  njnoji  ovor  hor  hoad, 
«iul  was  solihiug  bitterly.  1  Ik  j^m  to  ftvl  alttnufvl ;  a  strauffc  fear 
scHMUfJ  f^'rowiu;,'  upon  my  lieurt,  whidi  aliiost  hxl  me  to  doubt  tho 
cvidonci!  of  my  sensefi— to  fancy,  in  fact.  tl»at  what  I  hud  sotii 
jiiiglit  hav«  bidi  a  drcuMi.  lUit,  was  I  uot  there,  wido  awake? 
J 1. id  not  his  mother  lioard  him  siwak  as  we!!  as  im*?  though  hir 
huir-wakirj<>f  stutti  hiid  ri-udt-rfd  tlu'  luat/ca-  k-Ks  UiKtiiict  than  it  had 
hwn  to  rae  ?  J  was  not  poirtj?  to  'oc  r(>;isonei.l  out  of  \ny  saiiily  ii\ 
that  way,  bccttUHo  lie  did  not  chooso  to  wait  until  I  aunt' down  to 
oiKu  the  <i<»r— which  1  thouj^lit  rAtJKjr  unkind,  wIkii  he  must  bo 
Will  u?\vttr>i  tluit  iuy  uLxiety  lor  hit;  K;ilcty  uiust  quit^e  equal  that 
of  his  mother. 

"  The  red  bcam^  of  the  rl*!iHj:f  ruu  were  linG^infif  the  white  foam 
of  the  billows  with  a  Hush  oi'  erimson.  Tlie  ^raki  had  Killed  ;  and  1 
Jcnew  that  my  fathcr'tj  ves.s*'l  sjiiled  with  the  tide.  1  started  from 
iuy  scat ;  Mrs.  Ai'thiu'  lan;;ui«lly  raisod  her  Ik'ukI — 

"  '  My  tkutr  ltet*y,  will  you  ju.-;t  run  across  the  cltff  to  the  look- 
cut  lu)use,  and  a.-k  the  sailors  there  if  the  Nnncij  cauic  iu  last 
iiiglit?    I  cannot  beur  tlie  supjx'nse  niueh  lomjer.' 

"  '  I  miyht  have  thought  of  tliat  befoW!,'  1  said  ;  and,  without 
'\Aailiug  ftir  hat  or  shawl,  I  spwl  my  way  to  the  nvarest  station. 

"1  found  one  old  sailor  kneeling  upon  the  bench,  looking  intently 
through  his  t'kscf.i>e  at  »ofno  objv^^:t  tit  sea.  My  eyes  foUowed  tho 
tlircotioi)  of  the  glass,  and  1  saw  distinctly,  about  two  miles  beyond 
the  ejust  elilF,  a  vessel  lying  ditniastecl  \H)on  the  roei*,  with  the  eea 
l)reaking  continually  over  Jier. 

"  '  Wha*  vesiiel  in  that,  Xal  Jones?'  said  I. 
"  *  It's  tlw3  Nancy,'  he  rei)lio»l,  without  taking  his  eye  from  the 
j,du.ss.     'I  know  hor  by  t\vi  whiti;   stri})e  iiloug  lier  black  hull. 
«She's  a  perlect  wreck,  and  both  the  brave  lads  arc  di'owned.' 
"  '  When  did  this  hajipen  /'  I  cried,  shaking  his  urni  frantically. 
"  '  She  &tri>ek  niioh  the  r(»e>f  at  Lalf-jjast  one  this  morning.     Our 
lads  got  the  boat  oU",  but  too  late  U^  save  the  ci-ew.' 

"'(Jood  (jodl'  I  crie<l,  reeling  back,  as  if  struck  with  a  bolt 
(»f  ice ;  and  the  same  deadly-cold  shiver  rau  through  mo.  *  It  was 
his  ghost,  then,  1  saw  1'  * 


*  \  liavo  toll!  the  Htory  exactly  as  it  was  told  to  me  by  Flora's  uuritc.  Xli* 
roadf-r  uiust  jud^e  liow  far  tho  young  gid's  iin!i;{!ivitiun  may  have  deceived  her. 
^b4.-tb«>.t  A«  ft  dreajs,  or  a  reality,  I  Lave  oo  doubt  of  Ibe  truth  of  her  tulu. 


1 


80 


FI.or.A    LV\-;>SAT. 


n 


.  I 


"  I  don't  know  how  I  got  back  to  Mrs.  Arlluir.  I  ncYcr  kncir ; 
or,  whether  it  mxa  from  nic  she  loiirncd  the  terrible  tidings  of  the 
dciUh  of  her  sous.  I  fell  into  a  bruin  fever,  and  when  I  recovered 
my  scjkscK,  Mrs.  Arthur  hud  been  in  her  grave  for  some  wa'ks, 

"  In  tliinking  over  the  events  of  that  fearful  n'ght,  the  recollec- 
tion which  painotl  n\e  most  was,  that  David's  hist  thought  htd  been 
for  hi3  nK)ther — that  duiing  his  death-strugglo,  she  vtaa  dearer  to 
him  than  nie.  It  Jjaunted  me  lor  years.  At  times  it  haunts  mo 
Btill.  Whenever  the  wind  blows  a  gale,  and  the  moon  shines  clear 
and  cold,  I  funcy  I  can  sec  huj  standing  below  my  window,  in  his 
dripping  gj\rments,  aid  that  sad,  pale  face  turnei  towards  his 
motlier's  casement ;  and  I  hear  him  call  out,  in  the  rich,  mellow 
voice  I  loved  so  well,  *  Mother,  dearest  mother,  I  have  col-c  homo 
to  yon.    Ojien  tlic  dwjr  and  let  me  in  !'" 

"  it  was  a  dream,  nurse,"  s^uid  Flora. 

"  Ikit  snpposing,  Mi-s.  I.yu'1-iay,  that  it  was  a  dream.  Is  it  less 
strange  that  such  a  dream  should  occur  at  the  very  moment,  per- 
haps, that  he  was  drowned  ;  ami  that  his  mother  should  fancy  phc 
•  heard  him  .speak  as  well  a.s'  I  ?" 

"  True,"  said  Flora,  "  the  njystcry  remains  the  same ;  and,  for  my 
own  p;'-rt,  I  never  cotildget  rid  of  a  startling  rciUity,  liecausc  some 
perjplu  choose  to  call  it  a  incM'o  coincidence.  My  faith  embraces  the 
i*l)irit  of  the  fact,  and  disclaims  the  coincidence  ;  thongh,  after  all, 
the  coinciih^nco  is  the  best  i)roor  of  the  fact. 

"  This  event,"  couliuuevl  Xu:*e,  "  ciist  a  shadow  over  my  life, 
which  i:v>  iiflcr  suiisliiiie  ev(!r  dit;pollod.  I  never  loved  again,  uinl 
}:,a\'o  up  itjl  llu.ughts  of  getting  '.narried  from  that  hour.  I'erhaps 
I  w;u4  wn.'ug,  for  I  refusal  several  worthy  men,  who  would  have 
given  me  a  coniforfublo  honie  ;  iuhI  I  slunild  n')t  now,  at  n)y  time 
of  life,  have  to  go  out  nun^ing,  or  be  ilepeiulcnt  upon  a  cross  brother 
for  the  slicltev  of  a  roof.  ,  If  you  will  take  lue  to  Canada  with 
yon,  I  only  ask  in  retnrit  a  homo  in  my  old  age." 

Flora  was  delighte<l  with  the  project,  but  on  writing  about  it  to 
her  husband,  she  fouiul  hira  unwilling  to  take  out  a  feeble  old  wo- 
man, who  was  very  likdy  to  die  on  the  voyage  ;  and  Flora,  with 
reluctance,  declined  the  gtwHl  woman's  offer. 

It  happened  very  unfortunately  f(jr  Flora,  that  her  molJier  had 
in  her  omploymont  a  girl,  whoso  pn.'tty  fiminine  face  and  easy 
pliable  manners,  had  rendered  h'T  a  great  favorite  in  the  family. 
Whenever  Flora  visited  the  Hall,  IlauiuUi  had  tal:cu  charge  of  the 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


81 


er  kncir ; 
if^  of  the 
recovered 
eeks. 

!  rccoUcc- 
Lhtdbeen 
dearer  to 
munts  mo 
lines  clear 
Qw,  ill  lii» 
wards  his 
;h,  mellow 
011.C  homo 


Is  it  less 
)mcnt,  per- 
i  fancy  ehe 

md,  for  my 
•tmsc  some 
ihraces  tlio 
nfti-r  ull, 

my  life, 

rerluip;* 
ouUl  litivu 
uiy  tunc 
i>ss  brotlier 
imda  with 

,bout  it  to 
0  old  wo- 
lora,  with 

other  had 
and  easy 
"lie  fumily. 
ii-jjc  of  tUo 


baby,  on  whom  she  javishcd  the  most  endearing  epithets  and 
caressCvS. 

This  j;:irl  had  formed  an  imprudent  intimacy  with  a  farm  servant 
in  the  nei«jhborhoo<l,  which  hud  ended  in  her  seduction.  Her  situa- 
tion rendered  marriage  a  matter  of  necessity  In  this  arrangement 
of  the  mutter,  it  roijuired  both  parties  sh(/uld  agree  ;  and  the  man, 
who  doubtless  knew  more  of  the  girl's  nul  character  than  her  be- 
nevolent mistress,  flatly  rcfu.soil  to  make  her  his  wife.  Hannah,  in 
iin  agony  of  rage  and  contrition,  had  confided  her  situation  to  her 
mistress,  and  implored  her  not  to  turn  her  from  her  doors,  or  she 
would  enr'  her  misery  in  self-df^truction.  1 

**  She  had  no  home,"  she  s;iid.  "  in  the  wide  world — and  she  dared 
not  return  to  her  aunt,  who  wiw  the  only  friend  she  had ;  and  who, 
under  existing  circumstances,  she  well  knew,  would  never  afford 
her  the  shelter  of  her  roof." 

Simple  as  this  girl  appeared,  she  knew  well  how  to  act  her  par*  ^ 

and  so  won  upon  the  conipa-saion  of  Mrs.  \V ,  that  she  v    •  de- 

•tcrmined,  if  possible,  to  save  her  from  ruin.  Finding  that  Mrs. 
Lyndsay  liiul  failed  in  obtaining  a  servant,  she  npplied  to  her  on 
Hannah's  behalf,  and  requested,  as  a  favor,  that  she  would  take  the 
forlorn  creature  with  her  to  Canada. 

Flora  at  first  njected  the  proposal  in  disgust :  in  spite  of  Mr?. 

\V 's  high  recommendation,  there  was  something  about  the 

woman  she  did  not  like ;  and  much  as  she  was  inclined  to  pity  her, 
she  cou'id  not  reconcile  herself  to  the  idea  of  making  her  the  com- 
panion of  her  voyage.  She  could  not  convince  herself  that  1  lan- 
nah  was  worthy  of  the  syinpathy  manifested  on  her  behalf.  A  cer- 
tain fawning  servility  of  manner,  led  her  to  imagine  that  she  was 
dt'coitful ;  and  she  was  reluctant  to  entail  upon  herself  the  trouliI(; 
und  rasponsibility  which  must  arise  from  her  situation,  and  the 
scandal  it  might  involve.    But  her  objections  were  borne  down  by 

Mrs.  W 's  earnest  entreaties  to  save,  if  possible,  a  feilow-crea- 

tiire  from  ruin.  • 

The  false  notions  formed  by  most  persons  in  England  of  tlio 
state  of  society  in  Canmla,  made  Mi-s.  W n>ject,  as  mere  bug- 
bears, all  Flora's  fears  as  to  the  future  consequences  which  might 
arise  from  her  taking  such  a  hazardous  st*'p.  What  had  she  to 
fear  from  ill-natured  gossip  in  a  Imrbarous  country,  so  thinly  peo- 
plo«l  that  settlers  seldom  reside<l  within  a  day's  journey  of  each 
other.    If  tho  girl  was  wise  enough  to  keep  her  own  Bocret,  who 

i* 


W  FLORA    LYNDSAY. 

would  take  the  trouble  to  Gud  it  out  ?  Children  we/c  a  blessing  ia 
such  u  wilderness  ;  and  Hannah's  child,  brought  up  in  the  lUniily, 
would  be  very  little  additio'^al  cximmisc.  and  trouble,  an  ]  might 
prove  a  most  attached  and  grateful  scrva,ut,  forming  a  lastiufj  tio 
of  mutual  benefit  between  the  mother  and  her  benefactress.  The 
mother  was  an  excellent  worker,  and,  until  this  misfortune  huf)- 
pened,  a  good  and  faithful  girl.     She  was  wcaJc,  to  be  sure ;  but 

then  (what  a  fatal  mistake)  the  more  easily  managed.   Mrs.  W 

was  certain  that  Flora  would  Gnd  her  a  perfect  treasure. 

All  this  sounded  very  plausible  in  theory,  and  savored  of  ro- 
mance. Flora  found  it  in  the  end  a  dismal  reality.  She  consented 
to  receive  the  girl  as  her  servant,  who  was  overjoyctl  at  the  change 
in  her  prospects,  declaring  thi^t  she  never  could  do  enough  for  Mrs. 
Lyndsay,  for  snatcluug  her  from  a  life  of  disgrace  and  infamy. 
And  so  little  Josey  wad  provideil  with  a  nurse,  and  Flora  with  a 
servant. 


CliAI'TER  "Xll. 


TUB  LAST   IIOUKS  AT   HOME. 

To  BID  farewell  to  her  mother  and  sisters,  and  the  fear  home  of 
her  childhood,  Flora  regarded  as  her  greatest  trial.  As  each  suc- 
ceeding day  brought  uearv..*  the  hour  of  separation,  the  prospect 
be(^ame  more  intensely  painful,  and  fraught  with  a  thousand  mela  ■ 
choly  anticipations,  which  haunted  her  eveii  in  sleep  ;  and  she  often 
awoke  sick  and  faint  at  heart  with  the  tears  she  had  shed  in  a 
dream. 

"  Oh  that  this  dreadful  parting  were  over !"  she  said  to  her  friend 
Mory  Parneil.  "  I  can  cent  ..iplate,  with  fortitude,  the  trials  of 
the  future  ;  but  there  is  something  so  dreary,  so  utt«'rly  hopeless,  in 
this  breaking  up  of  kindred  ties  and  home  a^ssoeiations,  that  it  par- 
alyses execution." 

Mrs.  W ,  Flora's  mother,  was  in  the  decline  of  life,  and  it 

was  more  than  probable  tliat  the  separation  would  be  for  ever. 
This  Flora  fult  very  grievously  ; — she  loved  her  mother  tendcily, 

and  she  could  not  bear  to  leave  her.     Mrs.  W was  greatly 

attached  to  her  little  grandchild  ;  and,  to  mention  the  departure  of 
t\ie  child,  brought  on  a  paroxysnt  of  grief. 

"  Let  Josey  stay  with  me,  Flora,"  said  she,  as  Bbo  covered  it« 


Icsslng  ia 
e  family,^ 
h}  might 
istinfj  tio 

1 

JS8.    The 

>ure ;  but 

»•# 

8.  W 

1 

•ed  of  ro- 

consontc'd 

M 

ic  change 
\i  for  Mrs. 

il  iufumy. 
ra  with  a 

TLOiU    LYNDSAY. 


83 


dimpled  hands  with  kisses.    "  Let  mc  act  lose  you  both  In  one 
«l;iy.- 

'■'  What  J  part  "with  iiiy  cliild — my  oul;.  cliild!  IK'arcst  motlicr, 
it  is  iiupussiblu  to  grant  your  rcqui'sU  Whatever  our  future  foi*- 
tune.s  may  be,  slie  must,  share  them  with  us,  I  could  not  bear  up 
against  the  trials  which  await  me  with  a  divided  heart." 

"  Consider  the  adviv.itage  it  Wduld  be  to  the  child." 

"  In  the  loss  oi"  both  her  parcuLs?'' 

"  In  her  exemption  IVnm  haj'dship,  and  the  education  she  would 
receive." 

"  I  grant  all  tliat ;  yet  Nature  points  o«it  that  tlie  interests  of  a 
child  <•  Kiijot  sauJy  be  divided  from  those  of  its  parents." 

You  argue  sellishly,  Flora.     You  well  know  the  child  would 
be  nmch  better  oil"  with  uie."  * 

"  J  sjK'ak  f'-oii)  njy  heart — the  lu'art  of  a  mother,  which  cannot, 
without  it  \h  il..  to  a  monster,  plead  against  the  welfuro  of  its 
child.  I  know  how  dearly  you  love  iier— how  ])ainful  it  is  for  you 
to  give  her  up ;  and  that  she  woul<l  poKscss  with  you  those  com- 
forts wl>"  u.  for  her  sake,  wo  are  about  to  resign.  IJut,  if  we  leave 
her  behi.  *  part  with  her  for  (.-ver.  She  is  too  young  to  reiiK'm- 
ber  us  ;  nn»l,  witli(«it  knowing  \ii,  1k)W  oould  she  love  us?" 

"  .She  would  be  taught  to  love  you." 

"  Her  love  woiihl  be  «»f  a  very  indcdnite  character.  .Siic  would 
be  told  that  .siio  had  a  father  and  n\other  in  a  distant  land,  and  be 
taught  to  m(>ntion  us  daily  in  her  ^»rayers,  IJut  where  wouUl  b« 
the  fuitl'the  endearing  confidence,  the  holy  love,  with  which  a 
cliild,  brought  up  under  the  parental  roof,  regar<]s  the  author  of  its 
being.  The  love  ivhieh  fulls  like  dew  IVonj  heaven  upon  the  weary 
heart,  which  forms  a  l>alm  for  every  sorrow,  a  sola(.'e  for  every 
tare — without  its  n-lVeshing  inllueuce,  what  would  the  wealth  of 
the  world  bo  to  iis?" 

Flora's  hee-t  swelli'd,  and  her  eves  tilled  with  tears.  Tl»c  elo- 
quence  of  an  angel  at  that  moment  would  have  failed  in  persuading 
her  to  part  with  her  cluhl. 

XeviT  tlid  these  painful  fiKjlings  press  more  lieavily  on  Flora's 
mind,  than  when  all  was  done  in  the  way  of  preparation — when 
her  work  was  all  finished,  her  trunks  all  pa«'ked,  her  little  bill.'?  in 
the  town  all  paid,  her  faithful  domestics  disehargcHl,  and  uothiug 
remainetl  of  active  employment  to  hinder  her  from  perpetually 
brooding  over  the  sad  prospect  before  her.    She  went  to  spend  a 


M 


FLORA    I.TNDSAT 


last  (lisy  at  the  ohl  II^Il,  to  bid  farcwt-ii  to  the  old  furailiar  batmta 
endeared  to  her  from  cliildbootl. 

"  Flora,  you  must  keep  up  your  spliits,"  said  hor  motlicr,  kiss- 
ing her  tenderly  ;  nor  let  this  parting  weigh  too  lieavily  upon  your 
heart.    We  shall  all  imx.!  ivj^ain." 

"  In  heaven,  I  hope,  Mother." 

"  Yo9,  and  on  earth.'' 

"  Oh,  no ;  it  13  useless  to  hoiX)  for  that  No,  never  again  on 
earth." 

"  Alfl'ays  hope  Hot  the  5x>st,  Flora  ;  it  is  my  plan.  I  have  found 
it  true  wisdom.  Put  on  your  bonnet,  and  take  a  ramble  through 
tlie  jijarden  and  meadows  ;  it  will  refn^h  yon  after  so  many  harrass- 
ing  thmxg'r.tg.  Your  favorite  trees  are  in  full  leaf,  the  hawthorn 
hcdj;es  in  blossom,  and  the  nightnigales  shig  every  evening  in  the 
wood-kinc.  You  cannot  feel  miacrable  among  such  sights  and 
sounds  of  boauty  in  this  lovely  month  of  May,  or  yon  are  not  the 
same  Flora  I  ever  knew  you." 

'*  Ah,  just  the  ssuiw  faulty,  impulsive,  enthusiastic  creature  I 
ever  was,  dear  nvither.  No  diangc  of  circumstances  will,  I  feur, 
change  mv  nature ;  auu  t'">  siirht  of  these  dear  old  haunts  will  onlv 
deei)cn  the  regret  I  feel  at  bidding  them  adieu." 

Flora  put  on  her  bonnet,  and  went  forth  to  ti).ke  a  last  look  of 
home. 

The  Hall  was  an  old-fixshioned  house,  large,  rambling,  pictureffiuc 
nivl  cold.  It  had  been  built  in  the  first  year  of  good  Queen  liess. 
'I'lie  back  part  of  the  mansi<.n  api»oared  to  have  belonged  to  a 
per*u)d  still  n\orc  remote.  Tlwi  building  was  surrounded  by  fine 
gardens  and  lawn-like  mendows,  and  stootl  sheltered  within  a  grove 
of  noble  old  titH.!S.  It  was  beneath  the  shade  tjf  tlu»se  trees  and 
reposing  upon  the  velvet-like  sward  at  tlveir  feet,  that  Flora  had  first 
indulged  in  those  deliciou,^  reveries — those  lovely,  ideal  visions  of 
beauty  and  pt-rfection — which  cover  with  a  tissue  of  morning  iHjam.-^ 
all  the  rugged  highways  of  lite.  Silent  bosom  friends  were  thoso 
dear  old  trees !  10\xTy  noble  sentiment  of  her  soul,  every  fault  that 
threw  its  baneful  shadow  on  the  sunlight  of  her  mind — had  been 
fo8tere<l,  or  grown  upon  her,  in  those  pastoral  solitudes.  Those 
trees  had  witnosscnl  a  thousand  bursts  of  pjvssionate  clo(iuence — a 
tlioustvnd  gushes  of  bitter,  heart-humbling  teare.  To  them  had  be<m 
revcakHl  all  the  joys  and  sorrows,  the  hopes  and  fears,  which  she 
could  not  couQde  to  the  Buccring  and  unsympathising  of  her  own 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


85 


sex.  The  nolcmn  ilruidical  groves  were  not  more  holy  to  their 
inuigiimtive  itnd  mysterious  worshippers,  than  were  those  old  oaks 
to  the  youji;^  Flora. 

Now  the  balmy  breath  of  spring,  a.s  it  gently  heave<l  the  tender 
pfreen  nnisses  of  brilliant  foliage,  seemed  to  utter  a  voice  of  thrill- 
ing lamentation — a  sad,  soul-touching  farewell. 

"  Home  of  my  childhcMnl !  must  I  soe  yo^  no  more?"  sobbed 
Flora.  "  Are  you  to  become  to-morrow  a  vision  of  the  pa.«t  ?  O 
that  the  glory  of  spring  was  net  upon  the  earth  !  that  1  had  to 
leave  you  amid  winter's  chilling  gloom,  and  ni>t  in  this  lovely, 
blushing  month  of  May !  The  emerald  green  of  those  meadows — 
the  gay  flush  of  these  bright  blossoms — the  joyous  soug  of  these 
ghul  birds — breaks  my  heart !" 

And  the  poor  emigrant  sank  down  amid  the  green  grass,  and, 
burying  her  face  among  the  fragrant  daisies,  imprinted  a  passionate 
kiss  upon  the  sod,  which  was  never,  in  time  or  eternity,  to  form  a 
resting-place  for  her  again. 

But  a  beam  is  in  the  dark  cloud  even  for  thee,  poor  Flora ;  thou 
heart-sick  lover  of  nature.  Time  wiK  *econcile  thee  to  the  chaiigo 
which  now  appears  so  dreadful.  Tlu  human  flowers  ilestiiKnl  to 
spring  around  thy  hut  in  that  far-oil'  wilderness,  will  gladden  thy 
bosom  in  the  strange  land  to  which  thy  course  now  tends  ;  and  tho 
imago  of  God,  in  his  glorious  creation,  will  smilo  upon  thee  :w 
graciously  in  the  woods  of  Canada,  Tas  it  now  does  in  thy  English 
jHiradise.  Yes,  tho  hour  will  come  when  you  shall  exclaim  with 
fervor — 

"  Thank  (lOtl,  I  am  the  denizen  of  a  free  land  ;  a  land  of  beauty 
and  ])rogression — a  land  unpolluted  by  the  groans  of  starving 
millions — a  land  which  opens  her  fost*Ting  arms  to  rc<n'ive  >Jid 
restore  to  his  long-lost  birthright,  the  tramplcHl  and  al>U!^y'«l  chihi 
of  poverty  :  to  bid  him  stand  up,  a  free  inheritor  of  <i  friK;  soil,  who 
HO  long  labored  for  a  scanty  pittance  of  bread,  as  an  ignorant  and 
degra<led  slave,  in  the  country  to  which  you  now  cling  with  such 
p.isslonate  fondness,  and  leave  with  snch  heart-breaking  regret. 

Wlion  Flora  returned  from  an  extensive  ramble  through  all  her 
favorite  walks,  she  was  agreeably  surprijied  to  find  her  husband 

conversing  with  Mrs.  W in  tho  parlor.     The  unexpected  sight 

of  her  husband,  who  had  returned  to  cheer  her  some  davs  sooner 
than  the  one  he  had  named  iu  hia  letters,  soon  restored  Flora's 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


•  !! 


!lS'! 


spirits,  niid  the  sorrows  of  the  future  were  forgottca  in  the  joys  of 
the  present. 

Lynlsiiy  liud  a  thousaml  little  ijicidcnts  mul  anecdtites  to  relate 
of  hia  visit  to  the  great  metropolis;  \o  uhidi  Flora  was  au  eager 
t\in\  di?li,u:ht('il  listener,  lie  told  her  that  lie  liiul  satisluctorily 
urraii.^wl  all  his  pecuniary  matters;  and  \viilu»ia  .sitriruiiij'hisliail- 
liay,  was  able  to  takeout  about  Ihree  hundre<l  pounds  sterlini^,  whioh 
he  t  houjifht ,  prudently  managed,  would  enable  him  to  make  a  tolerably 
comfortable  settlement  in  Canada,  particularly  as  he  would  not  bo 
ol>liged  to  purchase  a  farm,  being  entitled  to  a  grant  of  four  hun- 
dred acres  of  wild  land. 

He  had  engaged  a  passage  in  a  fine  vessel  that  was  to  sail  from 
I/oith,  at  the  latter  end  of  the  week. 

*'  I  found  that,  in  going  from  Scotland,". said  Lyndsay,  "  we  could 
bo  as  well  accommodated  for  nearly  half  price ;  and  it  would  give 
you  the  opportunity  of  seeing  Edinburgh,  and  me  the  melancholy 
satisfaction  of  taking  a  last  h)ok  at  the  land  of  mv  birth. 

"One  of  the  London  steamers  will  call  for  us  to-morrow  morning 
^on  her  way  to  Scotland,  and  1  must  hire  a  boat  tonight,  and  gut 
our  luggage  prepared  for  a  start.  A  short  notice,  dear  Flora,  to 
a  sad,  but  inevitable  necessity,  I  thought  better  for  a  person  of  your 
temperaujent,  than  a  long  and  tedious  anticipation  of  evil.  Now 
all  is  preparetl  for  the  vj)yage,  delay  is  not  only  u.Heh«s,  but  danger- 
ous. So  cheer  up,  darling,  and  be  as  happy  and  cheerful  as  you 
can.  Let  us  spend  the  lost  night  at  home  pleitsantly  together." 
He  kissed  Flora  so  alfeetionately,  as  he  ceasetl  speaking,  that  f'»« 
not  only  promised  obedience,  but  contrived  to  smile  through  Iter 
tean. 

It  was  necessary  for  them  to  return  instantly  to  the  cottage,  and 
Flora  took  leave  of  her  mother,  with  a  full  heart.  We  will  not 
dwell  on  such  partings  ;  they 

"  Wring  tlio  blooil  from  out  young  hoartfl," 

as  the  poet  has  truly  describi-d  them,  nadiing  the  snows  of  age 
descend  upon  the  rose-crowned  brow  of  youth. 

Sorrowfully  Flora  ref  irnwl  to  her  pretty  little  cottage,  which 
pri^eutwl  a  scene  of  bustle  and  confusion  bafiling  description. 
Everything  was  out  of  place  and  turnetl  upside  down.  Corded 
trunks  and  package:^  tillul  n;>  the  passages  and  doorways;  and 
formed  stumbliug-blocks  for  kiuU  fricuUs  uuU  curious  ueighbors, 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


87 


H  who  crowded  tho  honso.    Strange  dogs  forced  their  way  in  after 

their  masters,  and  fought  and  yelpeti  in  undisturbed  pugnacity. 
The  baby  criinl,  and  no  one  was  at  leisure  to  pacify  her,  and  a 
cluvrless  aiul  uncomfortable  spirit  filled  the  once  peaceful  and 
hiippy  hon)e. 

01(1  Captain  Kitson  was  in  liis  glory;  hurrying  hero  and  there, 
ordering,  superintending,  aud  assisting  the  general  confusion,  with- 
out in  the  least  degree  helping  on  the  work.  Ho  had  taken  upon 
himself  the  charge  of  hiring  the  boat  which  was  to  convey  the  emi- 
grants on  board  the  steamer  ;  and  he  stood  chaffering  on  the  lawn 
for  a  couple  of  hours  with  the  sailors,  to  whom  she  l)elonged,  to 
induce  them  to  take  a  philling  less  than  the  sum  propo8e<l. 

Tired  with  the  altercation,  and  sorry  for  the  honest  tars,  Lynd- 
say  told  the  master  of  the  boat  to  yield  to  the  old  Captain's  ternis, 
and  he  wouid  make  up  the  difference.    The  sailor  answered  with  a 
knowing  wink,  and  appeared  rcluctivntly  to  consent  to  old  Kitson's  - 
wishes. 

"There,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  my  dear,  I  told  you  these  fellows  would 
come  to  my  terms  rather  than  lose  a  good  customer,"  criwl  tho  old 
man,  rubbing  his  hands  together  in  an  ecstasy  of  self-gratulation. 
'•  licave  me  to  make  a  bargain ;  the  rogues  cannot  cheat  me  with  their 
d — d  I'mpositions.  The  Leaftenant  is  too  soft  with  these  chaps ; 
I'm  an  old  suilor — they  can't  come  over  me.  I  have  made  them 
take  one  pouiul  for  the  use  of  their  craft,  instead  of  one  and  twenty 
shillings.  '  Take  care  of  the  pence,'  my  ddxr,  •  and  the  pounds  will 
take  c... e  of  themselves. '  I  found  that  out,  long  Ix'fore  poor  Richard 
marked  it  dcnvn  in  his  log." 

Then  sideling  up  to  Flora,  and  putting  his  long  nose  into  her 
face,  he  whisjiered  in  her  ear — 

"  Now,  my  dear  gall,  don't  be  offended  with  an  old  frioud  ;  but  if 
y<tu  have  iMiy  old  coats  or  hat^  that  Leaftenant  Lyndsay  dt)es  uot 
think  worth  packing  up,  I  shall  l>e  very  glad  of  them,  for  my 
Charles.  Mrs.  K.  is  an  excellent  hand  at  transmogrifying  things, 
antl  in  a  large  family  such  arlielca  never  come  amiss." . 

Charles  wjis  the  Captain's  youngest  son — a  poor  idiot,  who, 
tliii'ty  years  of  age,  had  the  aiipearanee  of  an  overgrown  boy.  The 
other  members  of  the  Captains  /urge  family  were  all  manie<l  und 
settled  prosperously  in  the  worhl.  Flora  felt  truly  ashamed  ot  the 
old  man's  meann»<s,  but  was  glad  to  repay  his  tritiing  services  in  a 
way  suggested  by  himself.  Tho  weather  for  the  last  three  weeks  bad 


88 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"^B 
•  ^f 


I 


been  unusually  fine,  but  towards  the  evening  of  this  memorable  30th 
of  May,  lar^c  masses  of  clouds  bepin  to  rise  in  the  northwest,  and 
the  sea  changed  its  azure  hue  to  a  dull,  leaden  grey.  Old  KiUon 
shook  his  hea<l  prophetically. 

"  There's  a  chanj?o  of  weather  at  hand,  Mrs.  Lyndsay ;  you  may 
look  out  for  squalls  before  six  o'clock  to-morrow.  The  wind  shifts 
every  minute,  and  there's  an  ugly  swell  rolling  in  upon  the  shore." 

"  Ah,  I  hope  it  will  be  fine,"  said  Flora,  looking  anxiously  up  at 
the  troubled  sky  ;  "  it  is  so  miserable  to  begin  a  long  journey  in  the 
rain.  Perhaps  it  will  pass  off  during  the  night  in  a  thunder- 
shower." 

The  old  man  whistled,  shut  one  eye,  and  looked  knowingly  at 
the  sea  with  the  other. 

"  Women  know  about  as  much  of  the  weather  as  your  nurso 
does  of  handling  a  rope.  Whew  I  but  there's  a  gale  coming  ;  I'll 
down  to  the  lx?ach,  and  tell  the  lads  to  haul  up  the  boats  and  nuike 
all  sinig  before  it  bursts,"  and  away  toddled  the  old  man,  full  of 
the  importance  of  his  mission. 

Jt»was  the  last  ni<<ht  at  home — the  last  social  meeting  of  kindred 
friends  on  this  side  the  grave.  Flora  tried  to  appear  cheerful,  but  the 
forced  smile  upon  the  tutored  lipi^,  renderetl  doubly  painful  the  tears 
kept  back  in  the  swollen  eyes — thn  vain  effort  of  the  sorrowful  in 
heart  to  be  gay. 

Alas  !  for  the  warm  hearts,  the  generous  friendships,  the  kindly 
greetings  of  dear  old  Kivgland,  when  would  they  be  hers  again  ? 
Flora's  friends  at  length  took  leave,  and  she  was  left  with  her  hus- 
band alone. 

CITAPTER   XIII. 

TIIR   DEPARTURE. 

It  was  the  dawn  of  day  when  Flora  started  from  a  broken, 
feverish  sleep,  aroused  to  consciousness  by  the  heavy  roaring  of  the 
sea,  as  the  huge  billows  thundered  against  the  story  beach.  To 
spring  frorti  her  bed  and  draw  Jjack  the  curtains  of  the  window 
which  commanded  a  full  view  of  the  bay,  was  but  the  work  of  a 
moment.  How  quickly  she  let  it  fall  in  dispair  over  the  cheerless 
prospect  it  presented  to  her  sight !  Far  as  the  eye  could  reach,  the 
sea  was  covered  with  foam.  Not  a  sail  was  visible,  and  a  dark, 
leaden  sky  was  pouring  down  torrents  of  rain. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


89 


"  What  a  morning !"  she  rautteml  to  hcreclf,  aa  she  stole  quietly 
back  to  bud.    "  It  will  be  iropoasiblo  to  put  to  sea  to-day." 

T\\G  slcop  whicli  had  shuiiiietl  her  pillow  during  the  greater  part 
of  tho  nij^ht,  gently  stole  over  her,  and  •'  wrapped  her  senses  in  for- 
g(!tfulne«s  :  "  and  old  KiLson,  two  hours  later,  twice  threw  a  peb- 
ble ai^aiiist  the  window,  before  she  awoke. 

"  Jjeti/leunnt  Lyndsay — Leaflenant  Lyndsay !"  shouted  the  Cup- 
tjiiii  in  a  voice  like  a  siKJuking-tnimpet — "  wind  and  tide  wait  for 
no  man.    Up  and  be  doing." 

"  Ah,  ah,"  responded  Lyndsay,  rubbing  his  eyes,  and  going  to 
the  window. 

•'  .S(!o  what  a  storm  the  night  has  been  brewing  for  you  1"  con- 
tiimoil  old  Kitson.  "  It  blows  great  guns,  and  there's  rain  enough 
to  float  Xoah'H  urk.  Waters  is  hero,  and  wants  to  see  you.  lio 
Buy.s  that  his  small  craft  won't  live  in  a  sea  like  this.  You'll  havo 
to  put  oft' your  voyage  till  the  steamer  takes  her  next  trip." 

••  That's  Inul,"  saitl  Lyndsay,  hurrj'ing  on  his  clothes,  and  join- 
in;^  the  old  (tailor  on  the  lawu.  ''  Is  there  any  chance,  Kitson,  of 
this  holding  up  ?" 

"  None.  This  is  paying  us  off  for  three  weeks  line  weather,  and 
may  last  for  several  days— at  all  events,  till  night.  The  steamer 
will  be  rattling  down  in  an  hour,  with  the  wind  and  tide  in  her 
favor.  Were  you  once  on  board,  Leaflenant,  you  migla  snap  your 
fingers  at  this  capful  of  wind." 

"  We  must  make  up  our  minds  to  lose  our  places,"  said  Lyndsay, 
in  a  tone  of  deep  vexation. 

"  Von  have  taken  your  places  then  ?" 

"  Yes ;  and  made  a  deposit  of  half  the  passage  money." 

"  Humph  I  Now,  Lcnflcnunt  Lyndsay,  that's  a  thing  I  never  do. 
I  always  take  my  chance.  I  would  rather  Iom  my  place  in  a  boat, 
or  a  ctjach,  than  lose  my  money.  But  young  follows  like  you  novrr 
learn  wi-klom.  Exiwriencc  is  all  thrown  away  upon  you.  IJut  iw 
wo  can't  remetly  the  evil  now,  we  had  better  step  in  and  get  a  mor- 
bl'1  of  breakfast.  This  raw  air  makes  one  hungry.  The  wind  may 
lull  by  that  time."  Then  gazing  at  the  sky  with  one  of  his  kci'n 
orbs,  while  ho  shaded  with  his  hand  the  other,  he  continucil — "  It 
rains  too  hard  for  it  to  blow  long  at  this  rate  ;  and  the  season  of 
the  year  is  all  in  your  favor.  (Jo  in — go  in,  aixl  get  something  to 
e.it,  and  wo  will  settlo  over  your  wife's  good  coffee  what  is  best  to 
bo  done." 


90 


FLORA    LYXD3AY. 


Lyudsay  thoujjlit  with  the  Captain,  that  the  stonn  would  ubato, 
and  he  returned  to  the  auxioua  Flora,  tu  report  the  aspect  of 
thiufrg  without. 

"  It  is  a  bad  omen,"  said  Flora,  pouring  out  tlu;  cofii.>e.  "  If  we 
niuy  Judge  of  the  future  by  the  presentr— it  looks  durU  enough." 

"  Don't  provoke  me  into  anger,  Flora,  by  talking  in  sueh  u  child' 
ish  manner,  and  plaeing  reliiuice  upon  an  exploded  suixirstition. 
^Vomen  are  so  fond  of  prognosticating  evil,  that  I  believe  they  are 
disappointed  if  it  does  not  happen  as  they  say." 

"  Well,  reason  may  find  fault  with  us  if  she  will,"  said  Flora  ; 
"  but  we  are  all  more  or  less  influenced  by  these  mysterious  presen- 
timents ;  and  suffer  trifling  circumstances  to  give  a  coloring  for 
good  or  evil  to  the  passing  hour.  My  dear,  cross  philosopher, 
hand  me  the  toast." 

Flora's  defence  of  her  favorite  theory  was  interrupted  by  the 
arrival  of  two  very  dear  friends,  who  had  come  from  a  distance, 
through  the  storm,  to  bid  her  good-bye. 

Mr.  Ilawke,  the  elder  of  the  twain,  was  an  author  of  consider- 
able celebrity  in  his  native  country,  and  a  most  kind  and  excellent 
man.  •  He  brought  with  him  his  second  son,  a  fine  lad  of  twelve 
years  of  age,  to  a  place  under  Lyndsay'a  charge.  James  llawke 
had  taken  a  fancy  to  settle  in  Canada,  and  a  fricinl  of  the  family, 
vlio  was  locatetl  in  the  backwoods  of  that  fur  region,  had  written 
to  his  father,  that  he  would  take  the  lad,  and  initiate  him  in  the 
mysteries  of  the  axe,  if  he  could  find  a  person  to  bring  him  ovir. 
I^yndsay  had  jjroniised  to  do  this,  and  the  b(»y,  who  hud  that 
morning  parted  with  his  mother  and  little  brothers  and  sisters,  for 
the  first  time  in  his  Hfe,  in  spite  of  the  elastic  spirits  of  youth, 
looked  sad  and  dejected. 

Mr.  Ilawke's  companion  was  a  young  Quaker,  who  had  known 
Flora  from  a  girl,  and  had  always  expressed  the  greatest  interci^t  iu 
her  welfare. 

Adam  Mansel  was  a  handsome,  talented  man,  whose  joyous  dis- 
position and  mirthful  humor,  could  scarcely  be  trammelled  down  by 
the  severe  conventional  rules  of  the  Society  to  which  he  belonged. 
Adam's  exquisite  taste  for  music,  and  his  great  admiration  for 
horses  and  dogs,  savored  rather  of  the  camp  of  the  enemy.  But  h\f 
love  for  these  forbidden  carnalities  was  alwavs  kept  within  bounds, 
and  only  known  to  a  few  very  particular  friends. 

"Friend  Flora,"  he  said,  talcing  her  hand,  and  giving  it  a  most 


FLORA    LYND3AY. 


hearty  and  oordial  Rhakc,  "  this  is  a  sad  day  to  those  who  have 
known  thoe  long,  and  loved  thee  well  ;  an'l  a  foul  day  for  the  com- 
mencement of  such  an  important  journey.  Had  beginnings,  they 
suy,  make  bright  endings ;  so  there  is  hope  for  thco  yet  in  tho 
stormy  cloud." 

"  Flora,  where  are  your  omens  now  ?"  said  Lyndsoy,  triuroplw 
antly.     "  Either  you  or  friend  Adam  must  be  wrong." 

"  Or  tho  proverb  I  quotwl,  say  rather,"  returned  Adam. 
•'  Proverbs  often  boar  a  double  meaning,  and  can  be  interpreted  as 
well  one  way  as  the  other.  'J'he  ancients  were  cunning  fellows  in 
this  n«pect,  and  were  determinetl  to  make  themselves  true  prophets 
at  any  rate." 

'*  What  a  miserablo  day,"  said  tho  poet,  turning  from  tlie  win- 
dow, where  ho  had  ban  contemplating  thoughtfully  tho  gloomy 
aspect  of  things  without.  His  eye  fell  sadly  upon  his  son.  "  It  is 
enough  to  chill  the  heart." 

"  When  I  was  a  boy  at  school,"  said  Adam,  "  I  used  to  think 
thiit  God  sent  all  the  rain  upon  holidays,  on  purpose  to  disappoint 
us  of  our  sport.  I  found  that  most  things  in  life  happc>ncd 
contrary  to  our  wishes  ;  and  I  used  to  pray  devoutly,  that  all  the 
Satunlay's  might  prove  wet,  firmly  believing  that  it  would  be  sure 
to  turn  out  the  reverse." 

"According  to  your  theory,  Mansel,"  said  Mr.  Ilawkc,  •'  Mrs. 
TjVndsay  must  have  prayed  for  a  very  fine  day." 

**  Dost  thee  call  this  a  holiday  ?"  returned  the  Quaker,  with  a 
twinkle  of  quiet  humor  in  his  brigltt  brown  eyes. 

Mr.  Ifawke  suppressed  a  sigh,  and  his  glance  again  fell  on  his 
boy ;  and,  hurrying  to  the  window,  he  mechanically  drew  his  hand 
across  his  eyes. 

Hero  the  old  Captain  came  bustling  in,  full  of  iniportunco, 
chuckling,  rubbing  his  hands,  and  shaking  his  dripping  feurnuught, 
with  an  air  of  great  satisfaction. 

"  You  will  not  bo  disappointctl,  my  dear,"  addressing  himself  to 
Mrs.  Lyndsay.  "  The  wind  has  fallen  off  a  bit ;  and  though  tho 
pea  is  too  rough  for  the  small  craft,  Palmer,  the  captain  of  tho 
j)ilot-boat,  has  been  with  me;  and,  for  tho  conaidcration  of  two 
))oiirul3  (forty  shillings) — a  large  sum  of  money,  by-the-bye, — t 
will  try  and  beat  him  down  to  thirty — he  says  ho  will  launch  tiio 
great  boat,  and  man  her  with  twelve  stout,  young  fellows,  who  will 
take  you,  bag  and  baggage,  on  board  the  steamer,  though  the  gale 


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93 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


were  blowing  twice  as  stiff.  You  have  no  more  to  fear  in  that  fine 
boat,  than  you  have  sitting  at  your  ease  in  that  arm-chair.  So 
make  up  your  mind,  my  dear ;  for  you  have  no  time  to  lose." 

Flora  looked  anxiously  from  her  husband  to  her  child,  and  then 
at  the  black,  pouring  sky,  and  the  raging  waters. 

"  There  is  no  danger,  Flora,"  said  Lyndsay.  "  These  fine  boats 
can  live  in  almost  any  sea.  But  the  rain  will  make  it  very  uncom- 
fortable for  you  and  the  child." 

"  The  discomfort  will  only  last  a  few  minutes,  Mrs.  Lyndsay," 
said  old  Kitson.  "  Those  chaps  will  put  you  on  board  before  you 
can  say  Jack  Robinson." 

"  It  is  better  to  bear  a  ducking  than  lose  our  passage  in  the 
Chieftain  "\  said  Flora.  "  There  cannot  be  much  to  apprehend 
from  the  violence  of  the  storm,  or  twelve  men  would  never  risk 
t'leir  lives  for  the  value  of  forty  shillings.  Our  trunks  are  all  in 
the  boat-house,  our  servants  discharged,  and  our  friends  gone ;  we 
"iiave  no  longer  a  home,  and  I  am  impatient  to  commence  our 
voyage." 

*•  You  are  right.  Flora.  Dress  yourself  and  the  child,  and  I  will 
engage  the  boat  immediately."  And  away  bounded  Lyndsay  to 
make  their  final  arrangements,  and  see  the  luggage  safely  stowed 
away  in  the  pilot-boat. 

Captain  Kitson  seated  himself  at  the  table,  and  began  discussing 
a  beefeteak  with  all  the  earnestness  of  a  hungry  man.  From  time 
to  time,  as  his  appetite  began  to  slacken,  he  addressed  a  word  of 
comfoit  or  encouragement  to  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  who  was  busy  wrap- 
ping up  the  baby  for  her  perilous  voyage. 

"  That's  right,  my  dear.  Take  care  of  the  young  one ;  'tis  tho 
most  troublesome  piece  of  lumber  you  have  with  you.  A  child 
and  a  cat  are  two  things  which  never  ought  to  come  on  board  a~ 
ship.  But  take  courage,  my  dear.  Be  like  our  brave  Nelson; 
never  look  behind  you  after  entering  upon  difficulties  ;  it  only 
makes  bad  worse,  and  does  no  manner  of  good.  You  will  encoun- 
ter rougher  gales  than  this  before  you  have  crossed  the  Atlantic." 

"  I  hope  that  we  shall  not  have  to  wait  long  for  the  steamer," 
said  Flora.  "  I  dread  this  drenching  rain  for  the  poor  bab  ,  far 
more  than  the  stormy  sea." 

"  Wait,"  responded  the  old  man,  *'  the  steamer  will  be  rattling 
down  in  no  time ;  it  is  within  an  hour  of  her  usual  time.  But 
Mrs.  Lyndsay,  my  dear," — hastily  pushing  from  him  his  empty 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


93 


Q  that  fine 
jhair.     So 
»se." 
,  and  then 

fine  boats 
iry  uncom- 

Lyndsay," 
before  you 

lage  in  the 
apprehend 
never  risk 
I  arc  all  in 
gone;  we 
mence  our 

,  and  I  will 
•Liyndsay  to 
ely  stowed 

discussing 

From  time 

a  word  of 

usy  wrap- 

'tis  tho 
A  child 
[n  board  a 
je  Nelson; 
it  only 
lill  encoun- 
Ltlantic." 
steamer," 
bab  ,  far 

be  rattling 

[me.    But 

lis  empty 


3r, 


plate,  and  speaking  with  hia  aiQiith  full — "  I  have  one  word  to  say 
to  you  in  private,  before  you  go." 

Flora  followed  the  gallant  captain  into  the  kitchen,  marvelling 
in  her  own  mind  what  this  private  communication  could  be.  The 
old  man  shut  the  door  carefully  behind  him ;  then  said,  in  a  myste- 
rious whisper — "  The  old  clothes  ;  do  you  remember  what  I  said 
to  you  last  night  ?" 

Taken  by  surprise.  Flora  looked  down,  colored,  and  hesitated  ; 
she  was  afraid  of  woundmg  his  feelings.  Simple  woman  1  the  man 
was  without  delicacy,  and  had  no  feelings  to  wound. 

"  There  is  a  bundle  of  things.  Captain  Kitson,"  she  faltered  out 
at  last,  "  in  the  press  in  my  bed-room,  for  Mr.  Charles — coats, 
trowsers,  and  other  things.  I  was  ashamed  to  mention  to  you  such 
trifles.'; 

"  Never  mind — never  mind,  my  dear ;  I  am  past  blushing  at  my 
time  of  life ;  and  reelly — (he  always  called  it  roelly) — I  am  much 
obliged  to  you." 

After  a  pause,  in  which  both  looked  supremely  foolish,  the  old 
man  continued — "  There  was  a  china-cup  and  two  plates — pity  to 
iSpoil  the  set — that  your  careless  maid  broke  the  other  day  in  the 
wash-house.    Did  Mrs.  K.  mention  them  to  you.  my  dear  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir,  and  they  are  paid  for,"  said  Flora,  turning  with  dis- 
gust from  the  sordid  old  man.  "  Have  you  anything  else  to 
communicate  ?" 

"  All  right,"  said  the  Captain.  "  Here  is  your  husband  look- 
ing for  you.    The  boat  is  ready." 

"  Flora,  we  only  wait  for  you,"  said  Lyndsay.  Flora  placed 
the  precious  babe  in  her  father's  arms,  and  they  descended  the  steep 
llight  of  steps  that  led  from  the  cliff  to  the  beach. 

In  spite  of  the  inclemency  of  the  weather,  a  crowd  of  old  and 
young. had  assembled  on  the  beach  to  witness  their  embarcation, 
and  bid  them  farewell.  „ 

The  hearty  "  God  bless  you  1  God  grant  you  a  prosperous 
voyage,  and  a  better  home  than  the  one  you  leave,  on  the  other 
side  of  the  Atlantic !"  burst  from  the  lips  of  many  an  honest  tar ; 
and  brought  the  tears  into  Flora's  eyes,  a&  the  sailors  crowded 
round  the  emigrants,  to  shake  hands  with  them  before  they  stepped 
into  the  noble  boat  that  lay  rocking  ia  the  surf. 

Precious  to  Flora  and  Lyndsay  were  the  pressure  of  those  hard 
rough  hands.    They  expressed  the  honest  syn-pathy  felt,  by  a  true- 


m 


TLORA    LTNDSAT. 


hearted  set  of  poor  men,  in  their  present  situation  and  future  woI> 
fare. 

"  You  are  not  going  without  one  parting  word  with  me  I"  cried 
Mary  Pamell,  springing  down  the  steep  bank  of  stones,  against 
which  thundered  the  tremenduous  surf.  Tho  wind  had  blown  her 
straw  bonnet  back  upon  her  shoulders,  and  scattered  her  fair  hair 
in  beautiful  confusion  round  her  lovely  face. 

The  weeping,  agitated  girl  was  alternately  clasped  in  the  arms 
of  Lyndsay  and  his  wife. 

"Why  did  you  expose  yourself,  dear  Mary,  to  weather  like 
this?" 

"  Don't  talk  of  weather,"  sobbed  Mary  ;  "  I  only  know  that  we 
must  part.  Do  you  begrudge  me  the  last  look?  Good-bye  I 
God  bless  you  both !" 

Before  Flora  could  speak  another  word,  she  was  caught  up  in 
the  arms  of  a  stout  seaman,  who  safely  deposited  both  the  mother 
and  her  child  in  the  boat.  Lyndsay,  Mr.  Hawke,  his  son,  Adam 
Mansel,  and  lastly  Hannah,  followed.  Three  cheers  arose  from  the 
sailors  on  the  beach.  Tlie  gallant  boat  dashed  through  the  surf, 
and  was  soon  bounding  over  the  giant  billows. 

Mr.  Hawke  and  friend  Adam  had  never  been  on  the  sea  before, 
but  they  determined  not  to  bid  adieu  to  the  emigrants  until  they 
saw  them  safe  on  board  the  steamer. 

"  I  will  never  take  a  last  look  of  the  dear  home  in  which  I  have 
passed  so  many  happy  hours,"  said  Flora,  resolutely  turning  her 
back  to  the  shore.  *'  I  cannot  yet  realize  the  thought  that  I  am 
never  to  see  it  again." 


1 

1 

1 

1 


"■S 


■.4 


f 


CHAPTER  XIV. 


AN   OPEN   BOAT   AT   SEA. 


Flora's  spirits  rose  in  proportion  to  the  novelty  and  danger  of 
her  situation.  All  useless  regrets  and  repinings  were  banished 
from  her  breast  the  moment  she  embarked  upon  that  stormy  ocean. 
The  parting,  which,  when  far  off,  had  weighed  so  heavily  on  her 
heart,  was  over  ;  the  present  was  full  of  excitement  and  interest ; 
the  time  for  action  had  arrived ;  and  the  consciousness  that  they 
were  actually  on  their  way  to  a  distant  clime,  braced  her  mind  to 
bear  with  becoming  fortitude  this  great  epoch  of  her  life. 


I 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


m 


he  arms 

her  like 

that  we 
Dod-byc  I 

lit  np  in 
5  mother 
n,  Adam 
from  the 
the  surf, 

a  before, 
ntil  they 


h  I  have 
ling  her 
at  I  am 


langer  of 

Ibanished 

|iy  ocean. 

on  her 

[interest ; 

jthat  they 

mind  to 


The  gale  lolled  for  a  few  minutes,  and  Flora  looked  up  to  the 
loaden  sky,  in  the  hope  of  catcliing  one  bright  gleam  from  the  sun. 
He  seemed  to  have  abdicated  his  throne  that  day,  and  refused  to 
Ciust  even  a  glimpse  upon  the  dark,  storm-tossed  waters,  or  cheer 
M'ith  his  presence  the  departure  of  the  emigrants. 

The  gentlemen  made  an  effort  to  be  lively.  The  conversation 
turned  on  the  conduct  of  women  under  trying  circumstances — the 
courage  and  constancy  they  had  shown  in  situations  of  great  peril 
— animating  the  men  to  fresh  exertions  by  their  patient  endurance 
of  suffering  and  privation.  Mr.  Hawke  said,' "  that  all  travellers 
had  agreed  in  their  observations  upon  the  conduct  of  females  to 
strangers ;  and  tliat,  when  travelling,  they  had  never  had  occasion 
to  complain  of  the  women." 

At  this  speech,  Lyndsay,  who  began  to  feel  all  the  horrible  nau- 
sea of  sea-sickness,  raised  his  head  from  between  his  hands,  and 
replied,  with  a  smile,  "  that  it  was  the  very  reverse  with  women, 
for,  when  they  travelled,  they  had  most  reason  to  complain  of  the 
men." 

The  effects  of  the  stormy  weather  soon  became  very  apparent 
among  tlie  passengers  in  the  pilot-boat — sickness  laid  its  leaden 
jrrasp  upon  all  the  fresh-water  sailors.  Even  Lyndsay,  a  hardy 
Islander,  and  used  to  boats  and  boating  all  his  life,  yielded  pas- 
pivcly  to  the  atlacks  of  the  relentless  fiend  of  the  salt  waters,  with 
rigid  features,  and  a  face  pale  as  the  faces  of  the  dead.  He  sat 
with  his  head  bowed  between  his  hands,  as  motionless  as  if  he  had 
s'jddenly  been  frozen  into  stone.  Flora  often  lifted  the  cape  of  the 
cloak  which  partially  concealed  his  face,  to  ascertain  that  he  was 
fitill  alive. 

The  anxiety  she  felt  in  endeavoring  to  protect  her  infant  from 
the  pouring  rain,  perhaps  acted  as  an  antidote  to  this  distressing 
malady,  for,  though  only  just  out  of  a  sick  bed,  she  did  not  feel  the 
least  qualmish. 

Hannah,  the  servant,  lay  stretched  at  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  her 
head  supported  by  the  ballast-bags,  in  a  state  too  miserable  to 
describe ;  while  James  Hawke,  the  lad  who  was  to  accompany  them 
in  their  long  voyage,  had  sunk  into  a  state  of  happy  unconscious- 
ness, after  having  vainly  wished,  for  the  hundredth  time,  that  he 
was  safe  on  shore,  scampering  over  the  village  green  with  his 
twttlve  brothers  and  sisters,  and  not  tempting  the  angry  main  in  an 
open  boat,  with  the  windows  of  heaven  discharging  waters  enough 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


it 


i! 


upon  his  defenceless  head  to  drown  Lim — without  speaking  of  the 
big  waves  that  every  moment  burst  into  the  boat,  giving  him  a  salt 
bath  upon  a  gigantic  scale. 

After  an  hour's  hard  rowing,  the  King  William  (for  so  their  boat 
was  called)  cast  anchor  in  the  roadstead,  distant  about  eight  mili^s 
from  the  town,  and  lay  to,  waiting  for  the  coming-up  of  tho 
steamer. 

Hours  passed  away — the  day  wore  slowly  onward — but  still  tho 
vessel  they  expected  did  not  appear.  The  storm,  which  had  lulled 
till  noon,  increased  in  violence,  until  it  blew  "  great  guns,"  to  uso 
the  sailors'  nautical  phraseology  ;  and  signs  of- uneasiness  began  to 
be  manifested  by  the  hardy  crew  of  the  pilot-boat. 

"  Some  accident  must  have  befallen  the  steamer,"  said  Palmer, 
tho  captain  of  the  boat,  to  Oraigie,  a  fine,  handsome  young  seaman, 
as  he  handed  him  the  bucket  to  bail  the  water  fi-om  their  vessel. 

"I  don't  like  this  ;  I'll  be  d d  if  1  do!    If  the  wind  increases, 

p.nd  remains  in  the  present  quarter,  a  pretty  kettle  of  fish  it  will 
make-Df  us.     We  may  be  thankful  if  we  escape  with  our  lives." 

**  Is  there  any  danger?"  demanded  Flora,  eagerly,  as  she  cku^ped 
her  wet,  cold  baby  closer  to  her  breast.  The  child  had  been  cry- 
ing pitcously  for  the  last  hour. 

"  Yes,  Madam,"  he  replied,  respectfully  ;  "  we  have  been  in  con- 
Bidcrable  danger  all  day.  The  wind  is  increasing  with  the  coming 
in  of  the  tide  ;  and  I  see  no  prospect  of  its  clearing  up.  As  tho 
night  comes  on,  do  ye  see,  and  if  we  do  not  fall  in  with  the  Soho, 
we  shall  have  to  haul  up  the  anchor,  and  run  before  the  gale ;  and, 
M'lth  all  my  knowledge  of  the  coast,  we  may  bo  driven  ashore,  and 
the  boat  swamped  in  the  sui'f."* 

Flora  sighed,  and  wished  herself  safe  at  home,  in  her  dear,  snug, 
little  parlor  ;  the  baby  asleep  in  the  cradle,  and  Lyndsay  reading 
aloud  to  her  as  she  worked,  or  playing  on  his  flute. 

The  rain  again  burst  down  in  torrents,  the  thunder  roared  over 
their  heads,*eud  the  black,  lurid  sky,  looked  as  if  it  contained  a 
second  deluge.  Flora  shivered  with  cold  and  exhaustion,  and  bent 
more  closely  over  the  child,  .to  protect  her  as  much  as  possible,  by 
the  exposure  of  her  own  person,  from  the  drenching  rain  and  spray. 

"  Ah !  this  is  sad  work  for  women  and  children  I"  said  the 
honest  tar,  drawing  a  large  tarpaulin  over  the  mother  and  child. 
Blinded  and  drenched  by  the  pelting  of  the  pitiless  shower.  Flora 
crouched  down  in  the  bottom  of  the  boat,  in  patient  endurance  of 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


# 


what  might  befal.  The  wind  blew  piercingly  cold  ;  and  the  spray 
of  the  huge  billows  which  burst  continually  over  them,  enveloped 
the  small  craft  in  a  feathery  cloud,  effectually  concealing  from  her 
weary  passengers  the  black  waste  of  raging  waters,  which  roared 
around  and  beneath  them. 

The  poor  infant  was  starving  with  hunger,  and  all  Flora's  efforts 
to  keep  it  quiet  proved  unavailing.  The  gentlemen  were  as  sick 
and  helpless  as  the  baby,  and  uoth'  \g  could  well  increase  their 
wretchedness.  Tliey  had  nqw  been  ten  hours  at  sea,  and,  not 
expecting  the  least  detention  from  the  non-arrival  of  the  steamer, 
nothing  in  the  way  of  refreshment  had  formed  any  part  of  their 
luggage.  Those  who  had  escaped  the  horrors  of  sea-sickness,  of 
which  Flora  was  one,  were  suffering  from  thirst,  while  the  keen 
air  had  sharpened  tlxeir  appetites  to  a  ravenous  degree. 

In  spite  of  their  forlorn  situation,  Flora  could  not  help  being 
amused  by  the  gay,  careless  manner,  in  which  the  crew  of  the  boat 
contended  with  these  difficulties. 

"  Well,  I'll  be  blowed,  if  I  arn't  hungry  !"  cried  Craigie,  as  he 
stood  up  in  the  boat,  with  his  arms  folded,  and  his  nor'wester 
pulled  over  his  eyes,  to  ward  off  the  drenching  rain.  "  Nothin* 
would  como  amiss  to  me  now,  in  the  way  of  prog.  I  could  digest 
a  bit  of  the  shark  that  swallowed  Jonah,  or  pick  a  rib  of  the  old 
prophet  hir^self,  without  making  a  wry  face." 

"  I  wond*?!'  which  would  prove  the  tougher  morsel  of  the  two," 
said  Mr.  Hawke,  raising  his  languid  head  from  the  bench  before 
him,  and  whose  love  of  fun  overcame  the  deadly  pangs  of  sea-sick- 
ness. 

"  A  dish  of  good  beefsteaks  from  the  Crown  Inn  would  be  worth 
them  both,  friend,"  said  Adam  Mansel,  who,  getting  better  of  the 
sea-sickness,  like  Craigie,  began  to  feel  the  pangs  of  hunger. 

"  You  may  keep  the  dish,  mister,"  returned  Craigie,  laughing ; 
"  give  me  the  grub." 

"  Ah,  how  bitter !"  groaned  James  Hawke,  raising  himself  up 
from  the  furled  sail  which  had  formed  his  bed,  and  yielding  to  the 
terrible  nausea  that  oppressed  him. 

"  Ay,  ay,  my  lad,"  said  an  ancient  mariner,  on  whose  tanned  face 
time  and  exposure  to  sun  and  storm,  had  traced  a  thousand 
hieroglyphics;  "nothing's  sweet  that's  so  contrary  to  natur'. 
Among  the  bitter  things  of  life,  there's   scarcely  a  worse  than 


K 


: 


I    I 


ly 


f^ 


f! 


i. 


H 


*  ' 


^. 


n 


FLORA    LYNDSAY, 


the  one  that  now  troubles  yon.    Sick  at  sea — well  on  shore ;  w 
there's  comfort  for  you!" 

"  Cold  comfort,"  sighed  the  boy,a3  he  again  fell  prostrate  on  the  ' 
■wet  sail.     A  huge  billow  broke  over  the  side  of  the  boat,  and 
deluged  him  with  brine.   He  did  not  heed  it,  having  again  relapsed 
into  his  former  insenvsible  state. 

"The  bucket  aft,"  shouted  Palmer;  "it's  wanted  to  bail  the 
boat."  , 

"The  bucket's  engaged,"  said  Craigie,  bowing  with  ludicrous 
politeness,  to  poor  Hannah,  whose  head  he  was  supporting.  "  I 
must  first  attend  to  the  lady." 

The  patience  of  the  handsome  young  Quaker,  under  existing  dif- 
ficulties, was  highly  amusing.  He  bore  the  infliction  of  the  pre- 
vailing malady  with  such  a  benign  air  of  reaignation,  that  it  was 
quite  edifying.  Wiping  the  saltwater  from  his  face  with  a  pocket- 
handkerchief  of  snowy  whiteness,  he  exclaimed,  turning  to  Flora, 
■who  was  sitting  at  his  feet  with  Joscy  in  her  arms,  "  Friend  Flora, 
this  sea-sickness  is  an  evil  emetic.  It  tries  a  man's  temper,  and 
makes  him  guilty  of  the  crime  of  wishing  himself  at  the  bottom  of 
the  sea." 

"  If  you  could  rap  out  a  good  round  oath  or  two.  Mister 
Quaker,  without  choking  yourself,  it  would  do  you  a  power  of 
good,"  said  Craigie.  "  What's  the  use  of  a  big  man  putting  up 
■with  the  like  o'  that,  like  a  weak  gall — women  were  made  to  bear 
— ^man  to  resist " 

"  The  Devil,  and  he  will  flee  from  them,"  said  Adam. 

"  You  smooth-faced,  unshaved  fellows,  have  him  always  at  your 
elbow,"  said  Craigie.  "  He  teaches  you  long  prayers — us  big 
oaths.     I  wonder  which  cargo  is  the  best  to  take  to  heaven." 

"  Two  blacks  don't  make  a  white,  friend,"  said  Adam,  good- 
naturedly.  "  Blasphemy,  or  hypocrisy  either,  is  sufficient  to  sink 
the  ship." 

Night  was  fast  closing  over  the  storm-tossed  voyagers.  The 
boat  was  half  full  of  water,  which  flowed  over  Flora's  lap,  and  she 
began  to  feel  very  apprehensive  for  the  safety  of  her  child.  At 
this  moment,  a  large  retriever  dog  which  belonged  to  the  captain 
of  the  boat,  crept  into  her  lap ;  and  she  joyfully  placed  the  baby 
upon  his  shaggy  back,  and  the  warmth  of  the  animal  seemed 
greatly  to  revive  the  poor  shivering  Josey. 

It  was  nearly  dark  when  Pahmer  roused\.yndsay  from  his  stupor. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


99 


and  suggested  the  propriety  of  their  return  to .    "  You  see, 

sir,"  he  said,  "  I  am  quite  willing  to  wait  for  the  arrival  of  the 
Soho,  but  something  must  have  gone  wrong  with  her,  or  she  would 
have  been  'down  before  ftiis.  The  crew  of  the  boat  have  been  now 
ten  hours  exposed  to  the  storm,  without  a  morsel  of  food,  and  if 
the  wind  should  change,  we  should  have  to  run  in  for  the  Port  of 
Y ,  twenty  miles  distant  from  this.  Under  existing  circum- 
stances, I  think  it  advisable  to  return." 

"  By  all  means,"  said  Lyndsay.  •'  This  might  have  been  done 
three  hours  ago ;"  and  the  next  minute,  to  Flora's  inexpressible 
joy,  the  anchor  was  hoisted,  and  the  gallant  boat  once  more  career- 
ing over  the  mighty  billows. 

Her  face  was  once  more  turned  towards  that  dear  home,  to  which 
she  had  bidden  adieu  in  the  morning ;  as  she  then  imagined  forever — 
"  England  1"  she  cried,  stretching  her  arms  towards  the  dusky 
shore.  "  Dear  England  !  The  winds  and  waves  forbid  our  leaving 
you.    Welcome — oh,  welcome,  once  more !" 

As  they  neared  the  beach,  the  stormy  clouds  parted  in  rifted 
masses ;  and  the  deep-blue  heavens,  studded  here  and  there  with  a 
pale  star,  gleamed  lovingly  down  upon  them  ;  the  rain  ceased  its 
pitiless  pelting,  the  very  elements  seemed  to  smile  upon  their 
return. 

The  pilot-boat  had  been  reported  during  the  day  as  lost,  and  the 
beach  was  crowded  with  anxious  men  and  women  to  hail  its  return. 
The  wives  and  children  of  her  crew  pressed  forward  to  meet  them 
with  joyful  acclamations ;  and  Flora's  depressed  spirits  rose  with 
the  excitement  of  the  scene. 

"  Hold  fast  your  baby,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  while  the  boat  clears  the 
surf,"  cried  Palmer.  "  I'll  warrant  that  you  both  get  a  fresh  duck- 
ing." 

As  he  spoke,  the  noble  boat  cut  like  an  arrow  through  the  line 
of  formidable  breakers  which  thundered  on  the  beach ;  the  foam 
flew  in  feathery  volumes  high  above  their  heads,  drenching  them 
with  a  misty  shower ;  the  keel  grated  upon  the  shingles,  and  a 
strong  arm  lifted  Flora  once  more  upon  her  native  shore. 

Benumbed  and  cramped  with  their  long  immersion  in  salt  water, 
her  limbs  had  lost  the  power  of  motion,  and  Lyndsay  and  old  Kit- 
son  carried  her  between  them  up  the  steps  which  led  from  the  beach 
to  the  top  of  the  cliffs,  and  deposited  her  safely  on  the  sofa  in  the 
little  parlor  of  her  deserted  home. 


w 


100 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


CHAPTER   XV. 


ONCE    MORE    AT    HOME. 


I  ^  -■- 
ill 


A  CHEERFUL  fire  was  blazing  in  the  grate ;  the  fragrant  tea  waa 
smoking  on  the  well-covered  table,  and  dear  and  familiar  voices 
rang  in  her  ears,  as  sisters  and  friends  crowded  about  Flora  to  offer 
tlieir  services,  and  congratulate  her  on  her  safe  return. 

"Ah,  does  not  this  repay  us  for  all  our  past  sufferings?"  cried 
Flora,  after  the  first  hearty  salutations  of  her  friends  were  over. 
"And  the  baby!  where  is  the  baby?" 

Josey  was  laughing  and  crowing  in  the  arms  of  her  old  nurse, 
looking  as  fresh  and  as  rosy  as  if  nothing  had  happened  to  disturb 
her  repose.  -■*■  ■  .  -  .    -v  -    , . 

"  Welcome  once  more  to  old  England !  dear  Flora,"  said  Mary 
Parnell,  kissing  the  cold,  wet  cheek  of  her  friend.  "  When  I  said 
that  we  should  meet  again,  I  did  not  think  it  would  be  so  soon. 
Thank  God,  you  are  all  safe  I  For  many  hours  it  was  believed  that 
the  boat  had  been  swamped  in  the  gale,  and  that  you  were  all  lost. 
You  may  imagine  the  distress  of  your  mother  and  sisters,  and  the 
anguish  the  report  occasioned  us  all,  and  how  we  rejoiced  when 
Waters  ran  up  with  the  blessed  news  that  the  boat  was  returning, 
and  that  her  crew  was  safe.  But  come  up  stairs,  my  Flora,  and 
change  these  dripping  clothes.  There  is  a  nice  fire  in  your  bed-room, 
and  I  have  provided  everything  necessary  for  your  comfort." 

"  Don't  talk  of  changing  her  clothes,  Miss  Parnell,"  said  the  old 
Captain,  bustling  in.  "  Undress  and  put  her  to  bed  immediately, 
between  hot  blankets,  and  I  will  make  her  a  good  stiff  glass  of 
brandy-and-water,  to  drive  the  cold  out  of  her,  or  she  may  fall  into 
a  sickness  which  no  doctor  can  cure.  Cut  your  yarn  short,  I  say, 
or  I  shall  have  to  take  charge  of  her  myself." 

"  Captain  Kitson  is  right,  Mary,"  said  Lyndsay,  who  just  then 
entered  from  superintending  the  removal  of  his  luggage  from  the 
boat,  accompanied  by  a  group  of  friends,  all  anxious  to  congratu- 
late Mrs.  Lyndsay  on  her  providential  escape.  "  My  dear  Flora, 
you  must  be  a  good  girl,  and  go  instantly  to  bed." 

"  It  will  be  so  dull  I"  and  Flora  glanced  at  the  group  of  friendly 
faces,  beaming  with  affection  and  kindness ;  "  I  should  enjoy  myself 
here  so  much.    Now,  John,  do  not  send  me  away  to  bed,  and  keep 


FLORA    LYND8AY. 


101 


ftll  the  fun  to  yonrself— the  bright,  cheery  fire  and  all  the  good 
things." 

Lyndsay  looke<l  grave,  and  whispered  something  in  her  ear  about 
the  baby,  and  the  madness  of  risking  a  bad  cold.  Whatever  was 
the  exact  import  of  his  communication,  it  had  the  effect  of  producing 
immediate  obedience  to  his  wishes,  and  Flora  reluctantly  quitted 
the  social  group,  and  retired  to  her  own  chamber." 

"  Ah,  Mary,"  she  said,  as  Miss  Parnell  safely  deposited  her  and 
the  precious  baby  between  the  hot  blankets,  "  it  was  worth  braving 
a  chousand  storms  to  receive  such  a  welcome  back.  I  never  knew 
how  much  our  dear,  kind,  friends  loved  us  before." 

"  And  now  we  have  got  you  safe  back,  Flora,  who  knows  what 
may  happen  to  prevent  your  leaving  us  again  ;  Lyndsay  may  chango 
his  mind,  and  prefer  being  happy  on  a  small  income  at  home  to 
seeking  his  fortune  in  a  strange  land." 

Flora  sliook  her  head. 

•'  I  know  him  better  than  you  do,  Mary.  When  once  he  has 
made  up  his  mind  to  any  step  which  he  considers  necessary,  a 
littu;  difficulty  and  danger  will  only  stimulate  him  to  exertion,  and 
make  him  more  eager  to  prosecute  his  voyage." 

Whilst  sipping  the  potion  prescribed  by  old  Kitson,  and  giving 
Mary  an  account  of  all  the  perils  they  had  encountered  during  the 
day,  Xurse  came  running  up-stairs  to  say  that  Captain  Kitson 
thought  that  the  Soho  was  just  rounding  the  point  off  the  cliff,  and 
he  wanted  to  know,  if  it  really  proved  to  be  her,  whether  Mrs. 
Lyndsay  would  get  up  and  once  more  trust  herself  upon  the  waves  ? 

"  Not  to-night  Xurse,  if  a  fortune  depended  upon  it,"  said  Flora, 
laughing.  "  Tell  the  Captain  that  I  have  spent  the  day  in  a  salt 
bath,  and  mean  to  pass  the  night  in  my  bed." 

Fortunately,  Mrs.  Lyndsay  was  not  put  to  this  fresh  trial.  Tho 
Captain  had  mistaken  the  craft,  and  she  was  permitted  to  enjoy  the 
warmth  and  comfort  of"  a  sound  sleep,  unbroken  by  the  peals  of 
laughter,  that  from  time  to  time,  ascended  from  the  room  beneath  ; 
where  the  gentlemen  seemed  determined  to  make  the  night  recom- 
pense them  for  the  dangers  and  privations  of  the  day. 

The  morning  brought  its  own  train  of  troubles — and  when  do 
they  ever  come  singly  ?  Upon  examination,  Lyndsay  found  that 
the  salt-water  had  penetrated  into  all  their  trunks  and  cases,  and 
that  everything  would  have  to  be  unpacked  and  hung  out  to  dry. 


f 


I 


M 


I   if 


101 


FLORA    LTND8AT. 


Tliis  was  indeed  dull  work,  the  disappointmoDt  and  loss  attending 
upon  it  rendering  it  doubly  irksome. 

While  Flora  and  her  friend  Mary  superintended  this  troublesome 
affair,  Lyndsay  lost  no  time  in  writing  to  the  steamboat  ''ompany 
informing  them  of  his  diostrous  attcn  pt  to  meet  the  Soho,  and  the 
loss  ho  had  incurred  by  missing  the  vessel.  They  stated,  in  reply, 
that  the  boat  had  been  wrecked  at  the  mouth  of  the  Thames,  in  the 
gale ;  and  that  another  boat  would  supply  her  place  on  the  Sunday 
following  ;  that  she  would  pass  the  town  at  noon,  and  hoist  a  red 
flag  at  her  stern,  as  a  signal  for  them  to  get  on  board. 

This  was  Thursday,  and  the  intervening  days  passed  heavily 
along.  A  restless  fever  of  expectation  prayed  upon  Flora.  She 
could  settle  to  no  regular  occupation ;  she  knew  that  the  delay 
only  involved  a  fresh  and  heavy  expense,  that  they  must  ultimately 
go,  and  she  longed  to  be  off.  The  efforts  made  by  her  friends  to 
amuse  and  divert  her,  only  increased  her  impatience.  But  time, 
however  slowly  it  passes  to  the  anxious  expectant,  swiftly  and 
surely  ushers  in  the  appointed  day. 

Sunday  came  at  last,  and  proved  one  of  the  loveliest  mornings 
of  that  delightful  season  of  spring  and  sunshine.  The  lark  carolled 
high  in  air,  the  swallows  darted  on  light  wings  to  and  fro ;  and  the 
sea,  vast  and  beautiful,  gently  heaved  and  undulated  against  the 
shore,  with  scarcely  a  ripple  to  break  the  long  line  of  golden  light, 
which  danced  and  sparkled  on  its  breast.  The  church  bells  were 
chiming  for  morning  prayer ;  and  the  cliffs  were  covered  with 
happy  groups  in  their  holiday  attire.  Flora,  surrounded  by  fricnda 
and  relatives,  strove  to  be  cheerful ;  and  the  t!ay  was  so  promising, 
that  it  infused  new  life  and  spirit  into  her  breast.  All  eyes  wero 
turned  to  that  part  of  the  horizon  on  which  the  long,  black,  trailing 
smoke  of  the  steamer  was  first  expected  to  appear.  A  small  boat, 
which  had  been  engaged  to  put  them  and  their  luggage  on  board, 
and  which  contained  all  their  worldly  chattels,  lay  rocking  in  the 
surf,  and  all  was  ready  for  a  start. 

In  the  midst  of  an  animated  discussion  on  their  future  prospects, 
the  signal  was  given  that  the  steamer  was  in  sight,  and  had  already 
rounded  the  point.  How  audibly  to  herself  did  Flora's  heart  beat, 
as  a  small,  black  speck  in  the  distance  gradually  increased  to  a 
black  cloud,  which  was  doubtless  the  expected  vessel  1 

Then  came  the  blinding  tears,  the  re-enactment  of  the  last  pas- 
sionate adieus,  and  they  were  once  more  afloat  upon  the  water. 


FLORA    LYNDSIY. 


108 


CHAPTER   XVL 


THE    P0<3. 

TiiK  human  heart  is  made  of  ehustic  stuff,  and  can  scarcely  expo- 
rience  on  the  same  subject  mi  equal  n'tensity  of  grief.  Bepetitioa 
had  softened  the  anguish  of  this  second  parting  j  the  bitterness  of 
grief  v/as  already  past ;  and  the  sun  of  hojxj  was  calmly  rising 
ttbove  the  clouds  of  sorrow,  which  hud  hung  for  tlie  last  weary 
days  so  lowcringly  above  our  emigrants.  Mr.  Jluwke  and  his  sou 
tilone  accom})auied  iliera  on  this  second  exj)cdition.  Adam  Manscl 
had  had  enough  of  the  sea  during  their  lalo  adventure,  and  thought 
it  most  prudent  to  make  his  adieus  on  sltoic. 

James  Ilawke  was  in  high  spirits ;  luitieipating,  with  boyish 
enthusiasm,  the  adventures  which  mi  '  t  fal'  to  his  p'i^re  during  a 
iong  voyage,  and  his  sojolirn  in  thaw  distant  I  i.d,  which  was  to 
prove  to  him  a  very  land  of  Goshen.  M u  .y  gay  hopes  smiled 
upon  him,  which,  like  mat  bright  sunn^  day,  were  doomed  to  have 
a  gloomy  ending,  although  at  the  beginning  it  promised  so  fair. 

The  owner  of  the  boat,  a  morose  old  seiiman,  grumV^od  out  his 
commands  to  the  two  sailors  who  managed  the  craft,  in  i  uch  u 
dogged,  sulky  tone,  that  it  attracted  the  attention  of  the  elder 
Hawkes,  and  being  naturally  fond  of  fun,  ho  endeavored  to  draw 
him  out  An  abruiyt  monosyllable  was  the  sole  leply  he  could 
obtain  to  any  one  of  his  many  qnestions- 

Lyndsay  was  highly  amused  by  his  «urly  humor,  and  flattered 
himself  that  he  might  prove  more  successful  than  his  friend,  by 
startling  the  sea-bear  into  a  more  lengthy  growl. 

"  Friend,"  said  he,  carelessly,  "  I  have  forgotten  your  name." 

"  Sam  Rogers,"  was  the  brief  reply,  uttered  in  a  short  grunL 

"  Does  the  boat  belong  to  you  ?'^ 

"Yes." 

"  She  looks  as  if  she  had  seen  hard  service." 

^'  Yes  ;  both  of  us  are  the  worse  for  wear." 

The  ice  ouce  broken,  Mr.  Hawke  chimed  in — "  Have  you  a  wife, 
Captain  Rogers  ?" 

"  She's  in  the  churchyard,"  with  a  decided  growl. 

■"  So  much  the  better  for  Mrs-  Rogers,"  whispered  Lyndsay  to 
B'lora. 


104 


FLOBA   LYND3AY. 


lit     • 


•«  You  had  better  let  the  animal  aloiae,"  said  Flora,  iu  the  aaxm 
tone :  "  'Tis  sworn  to  silence." 

"liave  you  any  family,  Captain  Rogers?"  rtxionMneneed  the 
incorrigible  Hawke. 

••  Ay ;  more  than's  good." 
"Girls,  or  boys?" 

"What's  that  to  you?  Too  many  of  both.  Why  do  you  call 
me  Captain  ?  You  knows  well  enough  that  I'm  not  a  captain ; 
never  was  a  c»-ptain,  and  never  wants  to  be." 

After  this  rebuff,  the  surly  Rogers  was  left  to  smoke  his  short, 
black  pipe  in  peace,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  little  boat  came 
alongside  tlie  huge  leviathan  of  the  deep.  A  rope  was  throwu 
from  her  deck,  which  having  been  secured,  the  following  brief  dia- 
logue ensued : 

"  The  City  of  Edinburgh,  for  Edinburgh  ?" 
**  The  Queen  of  Scotland,  for  Aberdeen,  Cuptain  Fi-aser." 
This  announcement  was  ft^Uowed  by  a  look  of  blank  astonish- 
ment and  disappointment  from  the  party  in  the  boat. 
♦'  Where  is  the  City  of  Edinburgh  ?" 

**  We  left  her  iu  the  river.  You  had  better  take  a  passage  with 
us  to  Aberdeen,"  said  Captain  Eraser,  advancing  to  the  side  of  his 
vessel. 

"  Two  hundred  miles  out  of  my  way,"  said  Lyndsay.  "  Fall  off." 
The  tow  rope  was  cast  loose,  and  lite  floating  caste  resumed  her 
thundering  course,  leaving  the  party  in  the  boat  greatly  discon- 
certed by  tlie  misadventure. 

*'  The  City  of  Edinburgh  must  soon  be  here  ?"  said  Lyndsay, 
addressing  himself  once  more  to  Sam  Rogei's.  That  sociable  indi- 
vidual continued  smoking  his  short  pijx?,  without  deigning  to  notice 
the  spealcer.  "  Had  we  not  better  lay-to,  and  wait  for  lier  coming 
up?" 

"  No ;  we  should  be  run  down  by  her.  Do  you  see  yon  ?"  point- 
ing with  his  pipe  to  a  grey  cloud  that  wiis  rolling  over  the  surface 
of  the  sea  towards  tlvcm  ;  "  that's  the  sea  rake — in  three  rniuutt^ 
— in  less  than  three  minutes,  you  will  not  be  able  to  discern  ob- 
jects three  yards  beyond  your  nose." 
"  Pleasant  news,"  said  Mr.  Hawke,  with  rather  a  dolorous  sigh» 
"  This  may  turn  out  as  bad  as  our  last  scrape.  Lyndsay,  you 
are  an  unlucky  fellow.  If  you  go  on  as  you  have  begun,  it  will  be 
Bome  months  before  you  reach  Canada.'* 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


105 


In  less  time  than  the  old  man  had  prognosticated,  the  dense  fog 
had  rapidly  spread  itself  over  the  water,  blotting  the  sun  froip  the 
heavens,  and  enfolding  every  object  in  its  chilly  embrace.  The 
shores  faded  from  their  view,  the  very  ocean  on  which  they  floated 
was  heard,  but  no  longer  seen.  Nature  seemed  to  have  lost  her 
identity,  covered  with  that  white  sheet,  which  enveloped  her  like  a 
shroud.  Flora  strove  in  vain  to  pierce  the  thick  misty  curtain  by 
which  they  were  surrounded.  Her  whole  world  was  now  confined 
to  the  little  boat  and  the  persons  it  contained  :  the  rest  of  creation 
had  become  a  blank.  The  fog  wetted  like  rain,  and  was  more 
penetrating,  and  the  constant  efforts  she  made  to  see  through  it, 
made  her  eyes  and  head  ache,  and  cast  a  damp  upon  her  spirita 
which  almost  amounted  to  despondency. 

"  What  is  to  be  done?"  asked  Lyndsay,  who  shared  the  same  feel- 
ings in  common  with  his  wife. 

**  Nothing,  that  I  know  of,"  responded  Sam  Rogers,  "  but  to 
return." 

As  he  spoke,  a  dark  shadow  loomed  through  the  fog,  which 
proved  to  be  a  small  trading  vessel,  bound  from  London  to  Yar- 
mouth. The  sailors  hailed  her,  and  with  some  difficulty  ran  the 
boat  alongside. 

"  Have  you  passed  the  City  of  Edinburgh  ?' 

"We  spake  her  in  the  river.  She  ran  foul  of  the  Courier 
steamer,  and  unshipped  her  rudder.  She  put  back  for  repairs,  and 
won't  be  down  till  to-morrow  morning." 

"  The  devil !"  muttered  Sam  Rogers. 

"  Agreeable  tidings  for  us,"  sighed  Flora.  "  This  is  worse  than 
the  storm ;  it  is  so  unexpected.  I  should  be  quite  disheartened,  did 
I  not  believe  that  Providence  directed  these  untoward  events." 

"  I  am  inclined  to  be  of  your  opinion.  Flora,"  said  Lyndsay,  "  in 
spite  of  my  disbelief  in  signs  and  omens.  There  is  something 
beyond  mere  accident  in  this  second  disappointment." 

"  Is  it  not  a  solemn  warning  to  us,  not  to  leave  England?"  said 
Fbra. 

"  I  was  certain  that  would  be  your  interpretation  of  the  matter," 
returned  her  husband ;  "but  having  put  my  hand  to  the  plough, 
Flora,  I  will  not  turn  back." 

The  sailors  now  took  to  their  oars,  the  dead  calm  precluding  the 
use  of  the  sail,  and  began  .,  steer  their  course  homewards.  The 
fog  was  so  dense  and  bewildering  that  they  made  little  way,  and 

5* 


<•  *  i 


106 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


the  long  day  was  spent  in  wandering  to  and  fro  without  being  able 
to  ascertain  where  they  were. 

"  Hark  1"  cried  one  of  the  men,  laying  his  ear  to  the  side  of  the 
boat,  **  I  hear  the  flippers  of  the  steamer." 

"  It  is  the  roar  of  the  aocursed  Barnet,"  cried  the  other.  "  I 
know  its  voice  of  old,  having  twice  been  wrecked  upon  the  reef — 
we  must  change  our  course ;  we  are  on  a  wrong  tack  altogether." 

It  was  near  midnight  before  a  breeze  sprang  up  and  dispelled  the 
ominous  fog.  The  moon  showed  her  wan  face  through  the  driving 
Bcud,  the  sail  was  at  last  hoisted,  and  cold  and  hungry,  and  sick  at 
heart,  our  voyagers  once  more  returned  to  their  old  port. 

This  time,  however,  the  beach  was  silent  and  deserted.  No 
friendly  voice  welcomed  them  back.  Old  Kitson  looked  cross  at 
being  roused  out  of  his  bed  at  one  o'clock  in  the  morning,  to  admit 
them  into  the  house,  muttering  as  he  did  so,  something  about 
**  unlucky  folks,  and  the  deal  of  trouble  they  gave ;  that  they  had 
better  give  up  going  to  Canada  altogether,  and  hire  their  old 
lodgings  again ;  that  it  was  no  joke  having  his  rest  broken  at  his 
time  of  life ;  that  he  could  not  aflbrd  to  keep  open  house  at  all 
hours,  for  people  who  were  in  no  ways  related  to  him." 

With  such  consoling  expressions  of  sympathy  in  their  forlorn  con- 
dition, did  the  hard,  worldly  old  man  proceed  to  unlock  the  door 
of  their  former  domicile  ;  but  food,  lights,  and  firing,  he  would  not 
produce,  until  Lyndsay  had  promised  ample  remuneration  for  the 
same. 

Exhausted  in  mind  and  body — for  she  had  not  broken  her  fast 
since  eight  o'clock  that  morning — Flora  for  a  long  time  refused  to 
partake  of  a  cup  of  tea  her  loving  partner  had  made  with  his  own 
hands  for  her  especial  benefit ;  and  her  tears  continued  to  fall  invoU 
untarily  over  the  sleeping  babe  which  lay  upon  her  lap. 

Mr.  Hawke  saw  that  her  nerves  were  completely  unstrung  by 
fatigue,  and  ran  across  the  green,  and  called  up  Flora's  nurse  to  take 
charge  of  the  infant. 

Mrs.  Clarke,  kind  creature  that  she  was,  instantly  hurried  to  the 
house  to  do  what  she  could  for  the  mother  and  child.  Little  Josey 
was  soon  well  warmed  and  fed,  and  Flora  smiled  through  her  tears 
when  her  husband  made  his  appearance. 

•'  Come,  Flora,"  he  cried,  "  you  are  ill  for  the  want  of  food — I 
am  going  to  make  some  sandwiches  for  you,  and  you  must  be  a  good 
girl  and  eat  them,  or  I  will  never  cater  for  you  again." 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


lot 


Mr.  Hawke  exerted  all  his  powers  of  drollery  to  enliven  the  mia- 
cellaneous  meal,  awd  Flora  soon  retired  to  rest,  fully  determined  to 
bear  the  crosses  of  life  with  more  fortitude  for  the  future. 

The  sun  was  not  above  the  horizon,  when  she  was  roused,  how- 
ever, from  a  deep  sleep,  by  the  stentorian  voice  of  Old  Kitson  who, 
anxious  to  get  rid  of  his  troublesome  visitors,  cried  out,  with  great 
glee — "  Hallo  I  I  say — here  is  the  right  steamer  at  last.  Better 
late  than  never.  The  red  flag  is  hoisted  at  her  stern  ;  and  she  is 
etanding  right  in  for  the  bay.  Quick  !  Quick !  Leaftenant  Lynd- 
Bay !  or  you'll  be  too  late." 

With  all  possible  despatch  Flora  dressed  herself,  though  baflSed 
by  anxiety  from  exerting  unusual  celerity.  The  business  of  the 
toilet  had  to  be  performed  in  such  a  brief  space,  that  it  was  impos- 
sible to  attend  to  it  with  any  nicety.  At  last  all  was  completed ; 
Flora  hurried  down  to  the  beach  with  Hannah  and  Mrs.  Clarke, 
James  Hawke  and  Lyndsay  having  preceded  them  to  arrange  their 
passage  to  the  steamer, 

"  Make  haste,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,"  shouted  old  Kitson;  "these  big 
dons  wait  for  no  one.  I  have  got  all  your  trunks  stowed  away  into 
tae  boat,  and  the  lads  are  waiting.  If  you  miss  your  passage  the 
tdrd  time,  you  may  give  it  up  as  a  bad  job." 

In  a  few  minutes  Flora  was  seated  in  the  boat,  uncheered  by  any 
parting  blessing  b*t  the  cold  farewell  and  for  ever,  of  old  Captain 
Kitson,  who  could  scarcely  conceal  the  joy  he  felt  at  their  depart- 
ure. The  morning  was  wet  and  misty,  and  altogether  comfortlu-,, 
and  Flora  was  glad  wlien  the  bustle  of  getting  on  board  the  steamer 
was  over,  and  they  were  safe  upon  her  deck. 


CHAPTER   XYII. 

THK   STEAMBOAT. 

In  spite  of  the  early  hour,  and  the  disagreeable  weather,  a 
number  of  persons,  glad  to  escape  from  the  close  confinement  of 
the  cabins,  were  pacing  the  deck'  of  the  steamer.  Others  were 
leaning  over  the  bulwarks,  regarding  the  aspect  of  tlie  country 
they  were  rapidly  passing ;  while  some  were  talking  in  small 
groups,  in  a  loud  declamatory  tone,  evidently  more  intent  on 
attracting  the  attention  of  the  bystanders  than  of  edifying  their 


108 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


own  Immediate  listeners.  Though  bright  eyes  might  look  heavy, 
and  fair  faces  languid  and  sleepy,  vanity  was  wide  awake  and  never 
more  active,  than  in  the  midst  of  a  crowd,  where  all  are  strangers 
to  each  other.  It  affords  sach  a  glorious  opportunity  for  display 
for  pretenders  to  rank  and  importance  to  show  off  their  affccted  airs 
of  wealth  and  consequence ;  and  the  world  can  lay  bare  its  rotten 
heart,  without  much  fear  of  detection,  or  drc»d  of  unpleasant 
results. 

Flora  sat  down  upon  a  bench  beside  her  husband,  and  her 
eye  ranged  from  group  to  group  of  those  strange  faces,  with  a  me- 
chanical, uninterested  gaze.  Here  a  pretty,  insipid-looking  girl 
sauntered  tlie  deck  with  a  book  in  her  hand,  from  which  she  never 
read  ;  and  another,  more  vivacious,  and  equally  intent  on  attract- 
ing her  share  of  public  notice,  raved  to  an  elderly  gentleman,  on 
whose  arm  she  was  leaning,  of  the  beauty  and  magnificence  of  the 
ocean. 

The  young  and  good-looking  of  either  sex  were  flirting.  The 
more  wily  and  experienced  coquetting  after  a  graver  fashion ; 
while  the  middle-aged  were  gossiping  to  some  congenial  spirit  on 
the  supposed  merits  or  demerits  of  their  neighbors. 

Not  a  few  prostrate  forms  might  be  seen  reclining  upon  shawls 
and  cloaks,  supported  by  pillows,  whose  languid,  pale  faces,  and 
disarranged  tresses,  showed  that  the  demon  of  the  waters  had  been 
at  work,  and  remorselessly  had  stricken  them  down. 

Standing  near  the  seat,  occupied  by  the  Lyndsays,  Flora  ob- 
served a  tall,  fashionably-dressed  woman,  apparently  about  twenty- 
eight  or  thirty  years  of  age.  She  was  laughing  and  chatting  in 
the  most  lively  and  familiar  manner  with  a  handsome,  middle-aged 
man,  in  a  military  undress.  The  person  of  the  lady  was  very 
agreeable,  and  though  neither  pretty  nor  elegant,  was  fascinating 
and  attractive. 

As  her  male  companion  constantly  addressed  her  as  Mrs.  Dalton, 
we  will  call  her  by  her  name.  "When  Mrs.  Lyndsay  first  took  her 
fseat  upon  the  deck,  Mrs.  Dalton  left  off  her  conversation  with 

Major  F ,  and  regarded  the  new  arrival  with  a  long,  cool, 

deliberate  stare,  which  would  have  won  a  smile  from  Flora,  had  it 
not  been  evidently  meant  to  insult  and  annoy  ;  for,  turning  to  the 
Major,  with  a  glance  of  peculiar  meaning,  accompanied  with  the 
least  possible  elevation  of  her  shoulders,  she  let  slip  the  word — 
*  Nobodyr 


TLORA    LYNDSAT. 


109 


"  I  am  sure  that  he  is  a  gentleman,  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  an 
officer,  and  a  fine,  intelligent-looking  man,"  remarked  her  compan< 
ion,  in  an  aside ;  "  and  I  like  the  appearance  of  his  wife." 

"  My  dear  Sir,  I  tell  you  that  she  is  nobody.  Look  at  that 
merino  gown ;  what  lady  would  venture  on  board  of  these  fine 
vessels,  where  they  meet  with  so  many  fashionable  people,  in  such 
a  dress?" 
"  A  very  suitable  dress,  I  should  say,  for  a  sea-voyage." 
"  Psha^l"  muttered  Mrs.  Dalton,  "  have  done  with  your  pru- 
dent Scotch  sense  of  propriety.  Who  minds  spoiling  a  good  dress 
or  two,  when  their  standing  in  society  is  risked  by  appearing 
shabby  ?    I  tell  you.  Major,  that  she  is  nobody." 

"  Had  you  not  told  me  that  you  had  passed  the  greater  part  of 
your  life,  Mrs.  Dalton,  in  a  British  Colony,  I  could  have  sworn 
to  the  fact,  from  your  last  speech,"  said  her  companion :  "  you 
all  think  so  much  of  dress,  that  with  you  it  is  really  the  coat  which 
makes  the  man,  and,  I  suppose,  the  gown  which  makes  the  lady. 
However,  you  shall  have  it  your  own  way.  You  know  how  easy 
it  is  for  you  to  bring  me  over  to  your  opinion." 

"  Do  you  think  that  a  pretty  woman  ?"  she  said,  directing  her 
husband's  eyes  towards  the  lady  in  question. 

"  Rather,"  he  replied,  coldly,  '*  but  very  Worldly  and  sophisti- 
.cated." 

"  I  am  glad  to  hear  you  say  so,"  said  Flora,  like  a  true  woman  ; 
"  that  is  precisely  the  opinion  I  have  formed  of  her.  Is  that  officer 
her  husband?" 

•'  I  should  rather  think  not.    Husbands  and  wives  seldom  try  to 
attract  public  attention  to  themselves,  as  that  man  and  woman  are 
doing.    I  have  no  doubt  they  are  strangera  who  never  met  before." 
"Impossible!" 

"  Nothing  more  probable ;  people  who  meet  on  short  journeys 
and  voyages  like  this,  often  throw  aside  the  restraints  imposed  by 
society,  and  act  and  talk  in  a  manner  which  would  be  severely  cen- 
sured in  circles  where  they  are  known.  Were  you  never  favored 
by  the  autobiography  of  a  fellow-traveller  in  a  stage-coach  ?" 

"  Yes,  often,  and  thought  it  very  odd  that  any  one  should  reveal 
so  much  of  their  private  history  to  a  stranger." 

"  It  is  a  common  occurrence,  originating  in  the  vanity  of  persons 
who  love  to  make  themselves  and  their  a&irs  the  subject  of  conver- 


no 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


Bation ;  and  if  they  can  bat  obtain  listeners,  never  stop  to  question 
who  or  what  they  are." 

"  Ah,  I  remember  getting  into  a  sad  scrape,"  suid  Flora,  "  while 

travelling  from  S to  London  in  a  stage-coach.     It  was  one 

of  these  uncomfortable  things  which  one  hates  to  think  of  for  the 
rest  of  a  life,  and  yet  so  ridiculous  that  one  feels  more  inclined  to 
laugh  over  it  than  to  cry,  though  I  believe  (for  I  was  but  a  girl  at 
the  time)  I  did  both. 

'  My  fellow-passengers  were  three  gentlemen,  one  ,ip  whom  I 
was  well  known,  the  others  perfect  strangers.  One  of  the  latter,  a 
very  well-dressed  but  rather  foppish,  conceited  young  man,  talked 
much  upon  literary  matters,  and  from  his  conversation  gave  you  to 
understand  that  he  was  on  the  most  intimate  terms  with  all  the 
celebrated  authors  of  the  day.  After  giving  us  a  very  frank,  and 
by  no  means  just  critique  upon  the  works  of  Scott  and  Byron, 
whom  he  familiarly  called, '  my  friend,  Sir  Walter,'  '  my  companion. 
Lord  Byron,'  he  suddenly  turned  to  me,  and  asked  me  '  if  I  ever 

read  the  S Chronicle  ?'    It  being  one  of  the  county  papers, 

I  told  him  that  I  saw  it  every  week. 

*' '  If  that  be  the  case,'  said  he, '  will  you  tell  r  ,d  what  yon  think 
of  the  Rev.  Mr.  5-'s  poems,  which  have  from  time  to  time  appeared 
in  its  columns  ?' 

"  This-  reverend  gentleman  was  a  man  with  a  very  heavy  purse^^ 
and  a  very  empty  head,  whose  contributions  to  the  country  papers 
were  never  read  but  to  be  laughed  at,  and  not  having  the  slightest 
personal  knowledge  of  the  author,  I  answered  innocently  enough, 
'  Oh,  he's  a  stupid,  conceited  fellow.  It  is  a  pity  he  has  not  some 
friend  to  tell  him  what  a  fool  he  makes  of  himself,  whenever  he 
appears  in  print.  His  poetry  is  such  dull  trash,  that  I  am  certain 
he  must  pay  the  editor  of  the  paper  for  allowing  him  to  put  it  in.' 

"  Mr.  0.  was  stuffing  his  handkerchief  into  his  mouth,  to  avoid 
laughing  out ;  while  the  poor  gentleman  (for  it  was  the  author 
himself)  drew  back  with  a  face  alternately  red  tind  na^e,  with  sup- 
pressed indignation.  His  feelings  must  have  been  dreadful,  for, 
during  the  rest  of  his  journey,  he  sat  and  regarded  me  with  an  air 
of  such  offended  dignity,  that  I  am  certain  I  must  have  appeared 
to  him  like  some  wicked  ogress,  who  was  ready  to  devour,  at  one 
mouthful,  him  and  his  literary  fame.  He  never  opened  his  mouth 
to  speak  to  any  of  us  after  I  had  made  this  unfortunate  blunder, 
and  I  sat  upon  thorns,  until  a  handsome  plain  carriage  drove  up 


FLORA   LYNDSAY. 


HI 


to  thi  coach  about  a  mile  from  T.,  and  relieved  us  of  his  com- 
pany. 

"  This  circumstance  made  me  feel  so  uncomfortable,  that  I  never 
ventured  upon  giving  an  opinion  of  the  works  of  any  living  author 
to  a  stranger,  without  having  a  previous  knowledge  of  the  person 
of  the  writer." 

"  He  deserved  what  he  got,  for  his  egregious  vanity,"  said  Lynd- 
say.  "  For  my  part,  I  do  not  pity  him  at  all ;  and  it  afforded 
you  a  good  lesson  of  prudence  for  the  future." 

At  this  moment  a  young  negro  lad,  fantastically  dressed,  and  evi- 
dently very  much  in  love  with  himself,  strutted  past.  As  he  swag- 
gered along  the  deck,  rolling  his  jet-black  eyes  from  side  to  side, 
and  showing  his  white  teeth  to  the  spectators,  an  indolent-looking 
young  man,  dressed  in  the  extreme  of  fashion,  called  languidly  after 
him— 

"  Hollo,  Blacky  1  What  color's  the  Devil  ?" 

"White,"  responded  the  imp  of  darkness,  "and  sports  red  whis- 
kers like  you !" 

Every  one  laughed  ;  the  dandy  shrunk  back,  utterly  confounded ; 
while  the  Negro  snapped  his  fingers,  and  crowed  with  delight. 

"  Hector,  go  down  into  the  ladies'  cabin,  and  wait  there  until  I 
call  for  you,"  cried  Mrs.  Dalton,  in  an  angry  voice  ;  "  I  did  not 
bring  you  here  to  insult  gentlemen." 

"  De  Buckra  aflfront  me  first  I"  returned  the  sable  page,  as  he 
sullenly  withdrew. 

"  That  boy  grows  very  pert,"  continued  his  mistress,  turning  to 
Major  F. ;  "  this  is  the  consequence  of  the  ridiculous  stir  made  by 
the  English  people  against  slavery.  The  fellow  knows  that  he  is 
free  the  moment  that  he  touches  the  British  shores ;  and  he  thinks 
lie  can  show  his  independence  by  disobeying  my  commands,  and 
being  insolent  to  his  superiors.  I  hope  he  will  not  take  it  into  his 
head  to  leave  me,  for  he  saves  me  all  the  trouble  of  taking  care  of 
the  children." 

The  Major  laughed,  while  Flora  piiied  the  children,  and  won- 
dered how  any  mother  could  confide  them  to  the  care  of  such  a 
nurse. 

The  clouds,  that  had  been  rising  for  some  time,  gave  very  un- 
equivocal notice  of  an  approaching  storm.  The  rain  began  to 
fall,  and  the  decks  were  quickly  cleared  of  their  motley  groups. 


* 


112 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


^ 


CHAPTER   XVIII. 

^  A   PEEP    INTO   THE   LADIES'    CABIN. 

In  the  ladies'  cabin,  all  was  helplessness  and  confusion.  The 
larger  jjprtion  of  the  berths  were  already  occupied  by  invalids  in 
every  stage  of  seansickness.  Tlie  floor  and  sofas  were  strewn  with 
bonnets  and  shawls,  and  articles  of  dress  were  scattered  about  in  all 
directions.  Some  of  the  ladies  were  stretched  upon  the  carpet ; 
others,  in  a  sitting  posture,  were  supporting  their  aching  heada 
upon  their  knees,  and  appeared  perfectly  indifferent  to  all  that  was 
pa&sing  around  them,  and  only  alive  to  their  own  misery :  others 
there  were,  who,  beginning  to  recover  from  the  odious  malady,  were 
employing  their  returning  faculties  in  quizzing,  and  making  remarks 
in  audible  whispers,  on  their  prostrate  companions — particularly  if 
their  dress  and  manners  did  not  exactly  accord  with  their  precon- 
ceived notions  of  gentility.  * 

The  centre  of  such  a  group  was  a  little  sharp-faced,  dark-eyed, 
sallow-skinned  old  maid  of  forty,  whose  angular  figure  was  covered 
with  ample  folds  of  rich  black  silk,  cut  very  low  in  the  bust,  and 
exposing  a  portion  of  her  person,  which,  in  all  ladies  of  her  age,  is 
better  hid.  She  was  travelling  companion  to  a  large,  showily- 
dressed  matron  of  fifty,  who  occupied  the  best  sofa  in  the  cabin, 
and,  although  evidently  convalescent,  commanded  the  principal 
attendance  of  the  stewardess,  while  she  graciously  received  the 
gratuitous  services  of  all  who  were  well  enough  to  render  her  their 
homage.  She  was  evidently  the  great  lady  of  the  cabin ;  and 
round  her  couch  a  knot  of  gossips  had  collected,  when  Flora,  fol- 
lowed by  Hannah  carrying  the  baby,  entered  upon  the  scene. 

Tiie  character  of  Mrs.  Dalton  formed  the  topic  of  conversation. 
The  little  old-maid  was  remorselessly  tearing  it  to  tatters.  "  No 
woman  who  valued  her  reputation,"  she  said,  with  pious  horror  in 
her  looks  and  tone,  "  would  flirt  in  the  disgraceful  manner  that 
Mrs.  Dalton  was  doing." 

"  There  is  soVne  excuse  for  her  conduct,"  remarked  a  plain  but 
interesting-looking  woman;  not  herself  in  the  early  spring  of  life. 
"  Mrs.  Dalton  is  a  West  Indian,  and  has  not  been  brought  up 
with  bur  ideas  of  refinement  and  delicacy." 

*'  I  consider  it  no  excuse !"  cried  the  other,  yehemently,  ghmcing 


FLORA    LTNDgAY. 


118 


up,  as  the  cabin-door  opened  to  admit  Flora  and  her  maid,  to  be 
sure  that  the  object  of  her  animadversions  was  not  within  ear- 
shot. '•  Don't  tell  me.  She  knows,  Miss  Leigh,  very  well  what 
she's  about.    Is  it  no  crime,  think  you,  her  trying  to  attract  the 

attention  of  Major  F ?    My  dear  Madam,"  turning  to  the 

great  lady,  who,  with  her  head  languidly  propped  by  her  hand, 
was  eagerly  listening  to  a  conversation  which  so  nearly  concerned 
her,  "  I  wonder  you  can  bear  so  calmly  her  flirtations  with  your 
husband.  If  it  were  me,  now,  I  should  be  ready  Jo  tear  her  eyes 
out.  Do  speak  to  the  creature,  and  remonstrate  with  her  on  her 
scandalous  conduct."  "• 

"  Ah,  my  dear  Miss  Mann,  I  am  used  to  these  things,"  sighed 
Mrs.  F.  "  No  conduct  of  the  Major's  can  give  me  the  least 
uneasiness  now.  Nor  do  I  think  that  Mrs.  Dalton  is  aware  that 
she  is  trying  to  seduce  the  affections  of  a  married  man." 

"  That  she  is  though,"  exclaimed  Miss  Mann,  triumphantly.  *'  I 
took  care  to  interrupt  one  of  their  lively  conversations,  by  telling 
Major  F.  that  his  wife  was  ill,  and  wished  to  see  him.  Mrs.  Dal- 
ton colored,  and  moved  away  ;  but  the  moment  my  back  was 
turned,  she  recommenced  her  attack.  If  she  were  a  widow,  one 
might  make  some  allowance  for  her  ;  but  she  is  a  young  married 
woman,  with  two  small  children.  I  have  no  doubt  that  "she  left 
lier  husband  for  no  good."  • 

"  She  was  marwed  very  young,  to  a  man  more  than  double  her 
own  age,"  said  Miss  Leigh.  "  The  match  was  made  for  her  by 
her  friends — especially  by  her  grandmother,  who  now  resides  in 
Edinburgh,  and  whom  I  know  very  well — a  woman  of  considera- 
ble property,  by  whom  Mrs.  Dalton  was  brought  up.  She  was 
always  a  gay,  flighty  girl,  dreadfully  indulged,  and  used  from  a 
child  to  have  her  own  way.  I  consider  her  lot  peculiarly  hard, 
in  being  united,  when  a  mete  girl,  to  a  man  she  had  scarcely  seen  a 
dozen  times,  and  whom  she  did  not  love.  The  worst  that  can  be 
said  of  her,  is,  that  she  is  vain  and  imprudent ;  but  I  can  never 
believe  that  she  is  the  bad,  designing  woman  you  would  make 
her." 

"  Her  conduct  is  very  creditable  for  a  clergyman's  wife,"  sneered 
the  old  maid.  "  I  wonder  the  rain  don't  bring  her  down  into  tho 
cabin.  But  the  society  of  ladies  would  prove  very  insipid  to  a  per- 
son of  her  peculiar  taste.  I  should  like  to  know  what  brings  her 
from  Jamaica  ?" 


lU 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


1 

1 

I 

1 

1 

"If  it  will  satisfy  your  donbts,  I  can  inform  you,"  said  Miss 
Leigh,  with  a  quiet  smiln.  "  To  place  her  two  children  with  her 
grandmother,  that  they  may  receive  an  ICuropcan  education.  She 
is  a  thoughtless  being,  but  hardly  deserves  youf  severe  censures." 

The  amfable  manner  in  which  this  lady  endeavored  to  defend  the 
absent,  without  wholly  excusing  her  levity,  struck  Flora  very 
forcibly.  Mrs.  Dalton's  conduct  upon  deck  had  created  in  her  own 
mind  no  very  favorable  opinion  of  her  good  qualities.  Miss  Leigh's 
remarks  tended  not  a  little  to  soften  her  disgust  and  averaion 
towards  that  individual,  whose  attack  upon  her  she  felt  was  as  ill- 
natured,  aa  it  was  unjust.  She  was  now  inclined  to  let  them  pass 
for  what  they  were  worth,  and  to  dismiss  Mrs.  Dalton  from  her 
thoughts  altogether.  But  Miss  Mann  was  too  much  excited  by 
Miss  Leigh's  extenuating  remarks,  to  let  the  subject  droo,  and 
returned  with  fresh  vigor  to  the  charge. 

"  It  is  totally  beyond  my  power,"  she  cried,  "to  do  justice  to  lier 
vanity  and  frivolity.  No  one  ever  before  accused  me  of  being  ill- 
natured,  or  censorious.  I3ut  that  woman  is  the  vainest  person  I 
ever  saw.  TIow  she  values  herself  upon  her  fine  clothes.  Did  you 
notice,  my  dear  Mrs.  F.,  that  she  changed  her  dress  three  times  yes- 
terday, and  twice  to-day?  She  knelt  a  whole  hour  before  the 
cheval-glass,  arranging  her  hair,  and  trying  on  a  variety  of  expen- 
sive head-dresses,  before  she  cculd  fix  on  one  for  the  saloon.  I 
should  be  ashamed  of  being  the  only  lady  amcng  so  many  men. 
But  she  is  past  blushing — she  has  a  face  of  brass." 

"  And  so  plain,  too,"  murmured  Mrs.  Major  F.  •' 

"You  cannot  deny  that  her  features  are  good,  ladies,"  again 
interposed  Miss  Leigh.  "  But  Creoles  seldom  possess  the  fine  red 
and  white  of  our  British  belles." 

"  At  night,"  suggested  Miss  Mann,  "  her  color  is  remarkably 
good ;  it  is  not  subject  to  any  variation  like  om's.  The  bleak  sea 
air  does  not  dim  the  roses  on  her' cheeks  ;  while  these  young  Indies 
lo()k  as  blue  and  as  cold  as  figures  carved  out  of  stone.  Of  course, 
Miss  Leigh  will  think  me  very  uncharitable  in  saying  that  Mrs.  D. 
paints  ;  but  I  know  she  does.  She  left  her  dressing-case  open 
yesterday,  and  her  little  boy  was  dabbling  his  fing&rs  in  her  French 
canuine  and  pearl  white,  and  a  lino  mess  he  made  of  his  mamma's 
beautiful  complexion.  Bless  me!"  exclaini(H.l  the  old  maid,  sud- 
denly lowering  her  voice  to  a  whisper,  "  if  there  is  not  her  black 
imp  sitting  under  the  table  ;  he  will  be  sure  to  tell  her  all  that  we 


FLORA    LYNOSAY. 


116 


have  said  about  her !  What  a  nuisance  he  is  1  I  do  not  think  it 
is  proper  for  hira,  a  great  boy  of  sixteen,  to  be  admitted  into  the 
ladies'  cabin*" 

"  Paliaw  1"  said  Mrs.  Major  F. ;  "  nobody  cares  for  him — a 
black." 

"  But,  my  dear  Mrs.  F.,  though  he  is  a  black,  the  boy  has  eyes 
and  cars,  like  the  rest  of  his  sex,  and  my  sense  of  female  propriety 
i3  shocked  by  his  presence.  But,  who  are  these  people  ?** — glano- 
in<^  at  Flora  and  her  maid — ""and  why  is  that  woman  admitted  inter 
the  ladies'  cabin? — servants  have  no  business  here." 

"She  is  the  nurse;  that  al'ors  the  case,"  said  Miss  Leigh. 
"  The  pica  of  being  the  childri.'n's  attendant,  brought  Master  Hec- 
tor into  the  cabin." 

"  The  boy  is  black,  and  has,  on  that  score,  as  Mrs.  Major  F. 
says,  neither  rank  nor  sex,"  continued  the  waspish  Miss  Mann,  con- 
tradicting the  objections  she  had  made  to  Hector's  company  only  a 
few  minutes  before.  "  I  will  not  submit  to  this  insult,  nor  occupy 
the  same  apartment  with  a  servant." 

"  My  dear  Madam,  you  strangely  forget  yourself,"  said  Miss 
Leigh.  "  This  lady  has  a  very  young  infant,  and  cannot  do  with- 
out the  aid  of  her  nurse.  A  decent,  tidy  young  woman  is  not 
quite  such  a  nuisance  as  the  noisy  black  boy  that  Mrs.  Dalton  has 
entailed  upon  us." 

*'  But,  then,  she  is  a  woman  of  fashion ,"  whispered  Miss  Mann ; 
"  and  we  know  nothing  about  these  people ;  and  if  I  were  to  judge 
by  the  young  person's  dress " 

"  A  very  poor  criterion,"  interrupted  Miss  Leigh  ;  "  I  draw  my 
inferences  from  a  higher  source. 

Flora  glanced  once  more  at  her  dress,  and  a  sarcastic  smile  passed 
over  her  face.  It  did  not  escape  the  observation  of  Miss  Leigh, 
wlio,  turning  towards  her,  inquired,  in  a  kind,  friendly  tone,  '•  If 
she  were  going  all  the  way  to  Edinburgh,  the  age  of  the  baby,  and 
how  both  were  affected  by  the  sea." 

Before  Flora  could  answer  these  questions,  Miss  Mann  addressed 
her,  and  said,  with  great  asperity  of  look  and  manner — 

"  Perhaps,  madam,  you  are  not  aware  that  it  is  against  the  reg- 
ulations of  these  vessels  to  admit  servants  into  the  state  cabin. 

"  I  am  sorry,  ladies,"  said  Flora,  rather  proudly,  "  that  the  pres- 
ence of  mine  should  incommode  you.  I  have  only  just  recovered 
from  a  dangefous  illness,  and  I  am  unable  at  present  to  take  the 


LH 


FLORA     LYMDSAT. 


whole  charge  of  the  child  myself.  I  have  paid  for  my  servant's 
attendunco  upon  mo  in  the  cabin,  and  I  am  certain  that  she  will 
conduct  herself  in  'a  manner  that  will  not  offend  the  prejudices  of 
any  one  here." 

"  ITow  unpleasant,"  grumbled  the  old  maid,  as  she  turned  dis- 
dainfully on  her  heel ;  ♦'  but  what  else  can  be  expected  from  under- 
bred people?" 

"  Who  wear  stuff  gowns,"  said  Flora,  maliciously. 

Miss  Leigh  looked  up  with  an  amused  smile  on  her  fine  intelli- 
gcnt  countenance ;  and  the  little  woman  in  black  retreated  once 
more  to  the  couch  of  the  big  lady. 

"  Send  away  your  nurse,"  said  Miss  Leigh,  in  a  low  voice,  to 
Mrs.  Lyndsay  ;  "  her  presence  gives  great  offence  to  certain  smali- 
minded  people,  and  if  I  may  judge  by  her  pale  looks,  she  will  be 
of  little  service  to  you ;  I  will  help  you  to  take  care  of  your  sweet 
baby." 

Flora  immediately  complied  with  Miss  Leigh's  request.  Han- 
nah was  dismissed,  and,  indeed,  the  poor  girl  had  enough  to  do  to 
take  care  of  herself.  She  was  so  miserably  ill  during  the  voyage, 
that,  from  the  moment  she  left  the  cabin,  she  was  unable  to  rise  from 
her  bed  until  the  vessel  made  her  port. 

Towards  evening  the  wind  rose  to  a  gale,  and  Flora,  who  had  not 
suffered  from  sickness  during  her  two  disastrous  trips  to  sea,  became 
so  alarmingly  ill,  that  she  was  unable  to  attend  to  the  infant,  or 
assist  herself.  Miss  Leigh,  like  a  good  Samaritan,  sat  up  with  her 
during  the  night,  but  in  the  morning  she  was  so  much  worse,  that 
she  earnestly  requested  that  her  husband  might  be  allowed  to  see 
her. 

Her  petition  was  warmly  seconded  by  Miss  Leigh,  but  met  with 
a  decided  refusal  from  the  rest  of  the  lady-passengers.  Mrs.  Dalton, 
who  took  a  very  prominent  part  in  the  matter,  sprang  from  her 
berth,  and  putting  her  back  against  the  cabin  door,  declared  "  that 
no  man  save  the  surgeon  should  gain,  with  her  consent,  an  entrance 
there !" 

"  Then  I  hope.  Madam,"  said  Miss  Leigh,  who  was  supporting 
Flora  in  her  arms,  "  that  you  will  adhere  to  your  own  regulations, 
and  dismiss  your  black  boy." 

"  I  shall  do  no  such  thing  ;  my  objection  is  to  men,  and  not  to 
boys.    Hector,  remain  where  you  are!" 

"  How  consistent  1"  sneered  the  old  maid. 


FLORA    LTND8AT. 


lit 


"  The  poor  lady  may  die,"  suggested  Miss  Leigh. 

"  Send  for  the  Doctor — there  is  one  on  board." 

"  The  Doctor,  ladies,"  said  the  stewardess,  coming  forward,  "  got 
hurt  lost  night  by  the  full  of  the  sail  during  the  storm,  and  is  ill  in 
his  bed." 

"  If  such  is  the  case,"  continued  Miss  Leigh,  "  you  cannot  surely 
deny  the  lady  the  consolation  of  sf^king  to  her  husband ! 

"  Who  is  her  husband  ?"  said  the  old  maid,  snappishly. 

"  A  very  gentlemanly  man,  I  assure  you,"  said  Mrs.  Dalton  : 
"  he  is  an  officer  in  the  army,  with  whom  I  had  a  long  .chat  lust 
night  iu  the  saloon." 

"  Very  consoling  to  his  sick  wife,"  whispered  Miss  Mann  to  Mrs. 
Major  P.,  just  loud  enough  to  be  overheard  by  Mrs.  Dalton  ;  "  it 
must  have  made  the  Major  jealous." 

"  What  a  noise  that  squalling  child  makes !"  cried  a  fat  woman, 
popping  her  night-capped  head  out  of  an  upper  berth  ;  can't  it  be 
removed  ?    It  hinders  me  from  getting  a  wink  of  sleep." 

"  Children  are  a  great  nuisance,"  said  Miss  Mann,  glancing 
towards  Mrs.  Dalton ;  "  and  the  older  they  are,  the  worse  they 
behave." 

"  Stewardess  ! — where  are  you.  Stewardess  1  Send  that  noisy 
babe  to  the  nurse  1"  again  called  the  fat  woman  from  her  berth. 

"  The  nurse,"  returned  that  important  personage,  "  is  as  ill  as 
the  mistress." 

"Oh,  dear ! — oh,  dear ! — my  poor  head  !  Cannot  you  take 
charge  of  it.  Stewardess  ?" 

"  Oh,  la !  I've  too  much  upon  my  hands  already — what  with 
Mrs.  Dalton's  children  and  all  this  sickness !" 

"  Have  a  little  mercy,  ladies,  on  the  sick  mother,  and  I  will 
endeavor  to  pacify  its  cries,"  said  Miss  Leigh.  "  Poor  little  thing, 
it  misses  her  care,  and  we  are  all  strange  to  it." 

"  I  insist  upon  its  being  removed !"  cried  the  fat  woman.  "  Tlie 
comfort  of  every  lady  in  the  cabin  is  not  to  be  sacrificed  for  the 
sake  of  that  squalling  brat.  If  women  choose  to  travel  with  such 
young  infants,  they  should  take  a  private  conveyance.  I  will 
complain  to  the  Captain,  if  the  stewardess  does  not  remove  it 
instantly." 

These  words  reached  Mrs.  Lyndsay's  ears,  just  as  she  was  recov- 
ering from  a  long  and  severe  fainting  fit,  and,  starting  from  Miss 
Ifiigh's  supporting  arms,  she  staggered  to  the  berth,  just  as  the 


118 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


stewardess  took  np  the  child,  and  exclaimed,  in  a  tone  of  alarm, 
whilst  a  passionate  burst  of  tears  rendered  her  voice  almost  inar- 
ticulate, "  Oh,  my  poor  baby  ! — do  not  take  away  my  baby  1  If  it 
muct  be  expelled,  we  will  go  together.  If  I  could  but  get  upon 
the  deck  to  my  husband,  we  should  not  meet  with  the  treatment 
there  that  we  have  received  here." 

"  Pon't  fatigue  yourself,"  said  Miss  Luigh, "  they  have  no  power 
to  send  either  you  or  the  dear  little  babe  away.  I  will  nurse  you 
both — see !  the  pretty  darling  is  already  asleep." 

She  carried  Josey  to  her  own  berth  in  the  state  cabin,  and  then 
undressed  Flora,  who  was  fast  relapsing  into  her  former  insensible 
state,  and  put  her  to  bed. 

What  a  difference  there  is  in  women !  Some,  like  ministering 
angels,  strew  flowers  and  scatter  blessings  along  the  rugged  paths 
of  life;  while  others,  by  their  malevolence  and  pride,  increase  its 
sorrows  an  hundred  fold. 

The  next  day  continued  stormy,  and  the  rain  fell  in  torrents. 
The  unsteady  motion  of  the  ship  did  not  tend  to  improve  the  health 
of  the  occupants  of  the  ladies'  cabin.  Those  who  had  been  well  the 
day  before,  were  now  as  helpless  and  miserable  as  their  companions. 
Miss  Leigh  alone  seemed  to  retain  her  usual  composure.  MiS.  Dal- 
ton  could  scarcely  be  named  in  this  catalogue,  as  she  only  slept  and 
dressed  in  the  cabin ;  the  rest  of  her  time  was  devoted  to  her  friends 
upon  deck,  and,  in  spite  of  the  boisterous  winds  and  heavy  sea,  she 
was  as  gay  and  aa  airy  as  ever. 

Her  children,  the  most  noisy  of  their  species,  were  confined  to 
the  cabin,  where  they  amused  themselves  by  running  races  round 
the  table,  and  shouting  at  the  top  of  their  shrill  voices,  greatly  to 
the  annoyance  of  the  sick  women.  In  all  their  pranks,  they  were 
encouraged  and  abetted  by  Hector,  who,  regardless  of  the  entreat- 
ies of  the  invalids,  and  the  maledictions  of  the  exasperated  stew- 
ardess, did  his  very  best  to  increase  the  uproar  and  confusion. 
Hector  did  not  care  for  the  commands  of  any  one  but  his  mistress, 
and  she  was  in  the  saloon,  playing  at  billiards  with  Major  F. 

Little  Willie  Dalton  had  discovered  the  baby,  and  Flora  was  ter- 
rified whenever  he  approached  her  berth,  which  was  on  a  level  with 
the  floor  of  the  cabin,  as  that  young  gentleman,  who  was  at  the 
unmanageable  ag*^  of  three  years,  seemed  decidedly  bent  on  mis- 
chief. Twice  he  had  crept  into  her  bed  on  his  hands  and  knees,  and 
aimed  a  blow  at  the  head  of  the  sleeping  babe  with  the  1^  of  a 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


119 


increase  its 


broken  chair,  which  he  had  found  beneath  the  sofa.  The  attack  had 
been  warded  off  by  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  but  not  without  receiving 
a  severe  bruise  on  her  arm  in  the  scuffle. 

While  the  ladies  slept,  Hector  stole  from  berth  to  berth,  and  poa- 
scssed  himself  of  all  their  stores  of  oranges,  lemons,  and  cayenne 
lozenges ;  sharing  the  spoils  with  the  troublesome,  spoilt  monkeys, 
left  by  their  careful  mamma  in  his  keeping. 

Towards  evening  Mrs.  Lyndsay  felt  greatly  recovered  from  her 
grievous  attack  of  sea-sickness ;  and,  with  the  assistance  of  Miss 
Leigh,  she  contrived  to  dress  herself,  and  get  upon  the  deck. 

The  rain  was  still  fulling  in  large,  heavy  drops ;  but  the  sun  was  ' 
bravely  struggling  through  the  dense  masses  of  black  clouds,  tJiat 
had  obscu:*ed  his  rays  during  the  long,  stormy  day,  and  now  cast 
a  watery  and  uncertain  gleam  upon  the  wild  scenery,  over  which 
Bamborough  Castle  frowns  in  savage  sublimity. 

This  was  the  last  glance  Flora  gave  to  the  shores  of  dear  old 
England.  The  angry,  turbulent  ocean,  the  lowering  sky,  and  falling 
rain,  seemed  emblems  of  her  own  sad  destiny.  Her  head  sunk  upon 
her  husband's  shoulder,  as  he  silently  clasped  her  to  his  breast ; 
and  she  could  only  answer  his  anxious  inquiries  respecting  herself 
and  the  child  with  heavy  sobs.  For  his  sake — for  the  sake  of  the 
little  one,  who  was  nestled  closely  to  her  throbbing  heart — she  had 
consented  to  leave  those  shores  for  ever.  Then  why  did  she  repine  ? 
Why  did  that  last  glance  of  her  native  land  fill  her  breast  with  such 
riiiutterable  grief?  Visions  of  the  dim  future  floated  before  her, 
prophetic  of  all  the  trials  and  sorrows  that  awaited  her  in  those 
unknown  regions  to  which  they  were  journeying.  She  had  obeyed 
the  call  of  duty,  but  had  not  yet  tasted  the  reward.  The  sacrifice 
had  not  been  as  yet  purified  and  sublimed,  by  long  suffering  and 
self-denial,  so  as  to  render  it  an  acceptable  offering  on  so  lioly  a 
shrine.  She  looked  up  to  heaven,  and  tried  to  breathe  a  prayer  ; 
but  all  was  still  and  dark  in  her  bewildered  mind. 

The  kind  voice  of  the  beloved  at  last  roused  her  from  the  indul- 
gence of  vain  regrets.  The  night  was  raw  and  cold ;  the  decks 
wet  and  slippery  from  the  increasing  rain  ;  and,  with  an  affectionate 
pressure  of  the  hand,  that  went  far  to  reconcile  her  to  her  lot,  Lynd- 
say whispered,  "  This  is  no  place  for  you,  Flora,  and  my  child. 
Return,  dearest,  to  the  cabin." 
With  reluctance  Flora  obeyed.    Beside  him  she  felt  neither  th« 


* 


I  'i 


120 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


cold  nor  wet ;  and,  with  the  greatest  repugnance,  she  re-enU;red 
the  ladies'  cabin,  and  retiring  to  her  berth,  enjoyed,  for  several 
hours,  a  tranquil  and  refreshing  sleep. 


CHAPTER  XIX. 


MRS.    DALTOK. 


It  was  midnight  when  Mrs.  Lyndsay  awoke.  A  profound  still- 
ness reigned  in  the  cabin  ;  the  invalids  had  forgotten  their  suffer- 
ings in  sleep — all  but  one  female  figure,  who  was  seated  upon  the 
carpeted  floor,  just  in  front  of  Flora's  berth,  wrapped  in  a  loose 
dressing-gown,  and  engaged  in  reading  a  letter.  Flora  instantly 
recognised  in  the  watcher  the  tall,  graceful  figure  of  Mrs.  Dalton. 

Her  mind  seemed  agitated  by  some  painful  recollections  ;  and  she 
sighed  frequently,  and  several  bright  tears  stole  slowly  over  her 
cheeks,  as  she  replacetl  the  paper  carefully  in  her  bosom,  and  tor 
many  minutes  appeared  lost  in  deep  and  earnest  thought.  All  her 
accustomed  gayety  was  gone ;  and  her  fine  features  wore  a  sad  and 
regretful  expression,  far  more  touching  and  interesting  than  the 
heartless  levity  by  which  they  were  generally  distinguished. 

"Is  it  possible,  that  that  frivolous  mind  can  be  touched  by 
grief?"  thought  Flora — "  that  that  woman  can  feel  ?" 

Mrs.  Dalton,  as  if  she  had  heard  the  unuttcred  query,  raised  her 
head,  and  caught  the  intense  glance  with  which  Mrs.  Lyndsay  was 
unconsciously  regarding  her. 

"I  thought  no  one  was  awake  but  myself,"  she  said;  "lam  a 
bad  sleeper.  If  you  are  the  same,  we  will  have  a  little  chat 
together  ;  I  am  naturally  a  sociable  animal ;  of  all  company,  I  find 
my  own  the  worst,  and  above  all  things  hate  to  be  alone." 

Surprised  at  this  frank  invitation,  from  a  woman  who  had  pro- 
nounced her  nobody,  on  no  other  account  than  that  of  wearing  a 
plain  but  suitable  dress.  Flora  replied,  rather  coldly,  *'  I  fear,  Mrs. 
Dalton,  that.our  conversation  would  not  suit  each  other." 

"  That  is  as  much  as  to  say,  that  you  don't  like  me ;  and  that 
you  conclude  from  that  circumstance,  that  I  don't  like  you?" 

"  To  be  candid,  then — you  are  right." 

"  I  fancy  that  you  overheard  my  observations  to  Major  F.  ?" 

"  I  did." 

"  Well,  if  you  did,  I  can  forgive  you  for  disliking  me.    When  1 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


121 


first  saw  you,  I  thought  you  a  very  plain  person,  and  judged  by 
your  dress,  that  you  held  a  very  inferior  rank  in  society.  After 
listening  a  few  minutes  to  your  conversation  with  Miss  Leigh,  who 
is  a  highly  educated  woman,  I  felt  convinced  that  I  was  wrong  ; 
and  that  you  were  far  superior  to  most  of  the  women  round  me. 
Of  course  you  thought  mc  a  very  malicious,  vain  woman." 

Flora  smiled,  in  spite  of  herself. 

"  Oh,  you  may  speak  it  out  I  deserve  to  be  punished  for  my 
want  of  discrimination.  I  shan't  like  you  a  bit  the  less  for  speak- 
ing the  truth.  I  am  a  strange,  wayward  creature,  subject  at  times 
to  the  most  dreadful  depression  of  spirits ;  and  it  is  only  by  affect- 
ing excessive  gayety  that  I  hinder  myself  from  falling  into  the  most 
hopeless  despondency." 

**  Such  a  state  of  mind  is  not  natural  to  one  of  your  age,  and 
who  possesses  so  many  persond  attractions.  There  must  be  somo 
cause  for  these  fits  of  gloom." 

"  Of  course  there  is.  I  am  not  quite  t^  heartless  coquette  I 
Bcem.  My  father  was  an  officer  in  the  army,  and  commanded  a 
regiment  in  the  West  Indies,  where  I  was  born.  I  was  an  only 
child,  and  very  much  indulged  by  botli  my  parents.  I  lost  them 
while  I  was  a  mere  child,  and  was  sent  to  Scotland  to  be  educated 
by  my  grandmother.  I  was  an  irritable,  volatile,  spoilt  child,  and 
expected  that  everybody  would  yield  to  me,  as  readily  as  my  slave 
attendants  had  done  in  Jamaica.  In  this  I  was  disappointed.  My 
grandmother  was  a  proud,  ambitious  woman,  and  a  strict  disci- 
plinarian ;  t'.nd  it  was  a  constant  battle  between  us  who  should  be 
master.  I  was  no  match,  howevei',  for  the  old  lady,  and  I  fretted 
constantly  under  her  control,  longing  for  any  chance  that  might 
free  me  from  her  rule.  It  was  a  joyful  day  for  me,  when  I  was 
eent  to  finish  my  education  at  one  of  the  first  schools/in  Edinburgh, 
which  I  did  not  leave  until  I  was  sixteen  years  of  age-  I  found 
grandmamma  several  years  older,  and  many  degrees  more  exacting 
than  she  was  before.  She  was  so  much  alarmed  lest  I  should 
make  an  unsuitable  alliance,  tliat  she  never  suffered  me  to  go  out 
without  I  was  accompanied  by  herself,  or  an  old  maiden  aunt, 
who  was  more  rigid  and  stifl'  than  even  grandmamma  herself. 

"  At  this  period  of  my  girlhood,  and  before  I  had  seen  anything 
of  the  world,  or  could  in  the  least  judge  for  myself,  a  very  wealthy 
clergj'man,  who  had  been  a  great  friend  of  poor  papa's,  ctvUed  to 
Bce  me  before  he  returned  to  Jamaica,  where  he  had  a  fine  livings 

6 


122 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


and  possessed  a  noble  property.  Unfortunately  for  me,  he  fell  des^ 
perately  in  love  with  the  orphan  daughter  of  his  friend,  and  his  suit 
was  vehemently  backed  by  grandmamma  and  aunt.  He  was  a 
handsome,  worthy,  kind  man,  but  old  enough  to  have  been  my 
father.  I  was  so  unhappy  and  restless  at  home  that  I  was  easily 
persuaded  to  become  his  wife  ;  and  I,  who  had  never  been  in  love^ 
thought  it  such  a  fine  thing  to  bf3  married,  and  my  own  mistress  at 
sixteen.  Our  union  has  not  boon  a  happy  one.  I  much  question 
if  such  unions  ever  are.  He  is  now  an  aged  man,  while  I  am  in 
the  very  bloom  of  life,  and  conseciuontly  exposed  to  much  tempta- 
tion. Thank  God  I  I  never  acted  criminally,  though  often  severely 
tried.  My  home  is  one  of  many  luxuries,  but  has  no  domestic  joys. 
My  children  are  the  only  tie  that  bind  me  to  a  man  I  cannot 
love  ;  and  I  have  been  so  long  used  to  di'own  my  disappointment 
and  regret  in  a  whirl  of  dissipation,  that  it  is  only  in  scenes  oi 
gayety  that  I  forget  my  grief. 

"  My  own  sex  spealc "lightly  of  me  j  but  I  do  not  deserve  their 
severe  ccnsiu'cs.  My  ibllow-passengers,  I  heard  from'  Hector,  made 
a  thousand  nvilicious  remarks  about  me  yesterday,  and  that  you 
and  Miss  Leigh  were  the  only  ones  that  took  my  part." 

"  My  conduct,"  replied  Flora,  "  was  perfectly  negative.  I  said 
nothing  either  in  i)raise  or  blame.  I  may  have  injured  you  by 
thinking  hardly  of  you." 

"  I  tlmnk  you  for  your  forbearance,  in  keeping  your  thoughts  ta 
yourself,  for  I  did  not  deserve  that  from  you.  The  conversation 
that  Hector  repeated  to  me  greatly  annoyed  me.  It  has  brought 
on  one  of  my  gloomy  fits.  If  I  did  flirt  a  little  with  Major  F.,  it 
was  done  more  to  provoke  the  spleen  of  that  ill-natured  old  maid^ 
who  acts  the  part  of  Cerberus  for  his  proud,  pompous  wife,  thaa 
for  any  wish  to  attract  his  attention." 

"It  is  better,"  said  Flora,  her  heart  softening  towards  her  com:- 
panion,  "  to  avoid  all  appearance  of  evil.  Superficial  observers 
only  judge  by  outward  appearance,  and  your  conduct  must  have 
appeared  strange  to  a  jealous  woman." 

"  She  was  jealous  of  me  then?"  cried  the  volatile  Mrs.  Dalton, 
clapping  her  hands  in  an  ecstasy  of  delight.  "  Oh,  I  am  so  glad 
tliat  it  annoyed  her  I" 

Flora  could  not  help  laughing  at  the  vivacity  with  which  alio 
turned  her  words  to  make  them  subservient  to  her  own  vanity.  But 
when  she  described  the  consternation  felt  by  Miss  Mann,  on  discov- 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


123 


ering  Hector  ander  the  table,  her  eccentric  companion  laughed  until 
the  tears  ran  down  her  cheeks. 

The  introduction  of  Hector  insensibly  turned  the  conversation 
upon  the  state  of  the  slaves  in  the  "West  Indies.  The  excitement 
of  the  slave  question  was  just  then  at  its  height ;  but  the  bill  for 
their  emancipation  had  not  yet  passed  the  houses  of  parliament. 
Upon  Flora  expressing  her  abhorrence  of  the  whole  system,  Mrs. 
Dalton  proceeded  to  defend  it  with  no  little  warmth. 

"  Ah,  I  perceive  that  you  know  nothing  about  it.  You  are 
infected  with  the  bigotry  and  prejudices  of  the  anti-slavery  advo- 
cates. Negroes  are  an  inferior  race  ;  they  were  made  to  work  for 
civilized  men,  in  climates  where  labor  would  be  death  to  those  of  a 
different  complexion." 

"  This  is  reducing  the  African  to  a  mere  beast  of  burthen — a 
machine  in  the  form  of  man.  The  just  God  never  made  a  race  of 
beings  purposely  to  drag  out  a  painful  existence  in  perpetual  toil 
and  degradation." 

"  They  are  better  off  than  your  peasants  at  home,"  continued  Mrs. 
Dalton,  indignantly — "  better  fed  and  taken  care  of.  As  to  the 
idle  talcs  they  tell  you  about  flogging,  starvation,  and  killing  slaves, 
they  are  fearful  exaggerations,  not  worthy  of  credit.  Do  you  think 
a  farmer  would  kill  a  horse  that  he  knew  "was  worth  a  hundred 
pounds,  out  of  revenge  fbr  his  having  done.some  trifling  injury  to 
his  harness  ?  A  planter  would  not  disable  a  valuable  slave,  if  by 
so  doing  he  injured  himself.  But  your  slave  adorers  will  not  listen 
to  reason  and  common  sense.  I  have  been  the  owner  of  many 
slaves,  but  I  never  i1'  used  one  of  them  in  my  life." 

"  Hector  is  an  txample  of  over-indulgence,"  said  Flora ;"  but 
still  he  is  only  a  pet  animal  in  your  estimation.  Tell  me  truly, 
Mrs.  Dalton,  do  you  believe  that  a  negro  has  a  soul  to  be  saved  ?" 

«'  I  think  it  doubtful  I" 

"And  you  the  wife  of  a  Christian  minister?"  said  Flora, 
reproachfully. 

"  If  they  had  immortal  souls  and  reasoning  minds,  we  should  not 
be  permitted  to  holrf  them  as  slaves.  Their  degradation  proves 
their  inferiority." 

"  It  only  proves  the  brutalizing  effects  of  your  immoral  system," 
said  Flora,  waxing  warm.  "  I  taught  a  black  man  from  the  island 
of  St.  Vincent's  to  read  the  Bible  fluently  in  ten  weeks.  Was 
that  a  proof  of  mental  incapacity  ?    I  never  met  with  an  unedu- 


II 


124 


FLORA    LTNDSA7. 


cated  white  man  who  learned  to  read  so  rapidly,  or  who  pnrsaed 
his  studies  with  the  ardor  of  this  despised,  soulless  black.  His 
motive  for  this  exertion  was  a  noble  one,  which  I  believe  cost  him 
his  life — the  hope  of  carrying  the  glad  tidings  of  salvation  to  his 
benighted  countrymen,  which  he  considered  the  best  means  of 
improving  their  condition,  and  rendering  less  burdensome  their 
oppressive  yoke." 

"This  was  all  very  well  in  theory;  but  it  will  never  do  in 
practice.  If  the  British  Government,  urged  on  by  a  set  of  fana- 
tics, who,  in  reality,  are  more  anxious  to  bring  themselves  into 
notice  than  to  emancipate  the  slaves,  madly  persist  in  adopting 
their  ridiculous  project,  it  will  involve  the  West  Indies  in  ruin." 

"  It  were  better  that  the  whole  group  of  islands  were  sunk  in 
the  depths  of  the  sea,"  said  Flora,  vehemently,  '•  than  continue  to 
present  to  the  world  a  system  of  injustice  and  cruelty,  that  is  a 
disgrace  to  a  Christian  community — a  spectacle  of  infamy  to  the 
civilized  world.  Nor  think  that  the  wise  and  good  men  who  are 
engaged  heart  and  hand  in  this  holy  cause,  will  cease  their  exer- 
tions until  their  great  object  is  accomplished,  and  slavery  is  ban- 
ished from  the  earth." 

Mrs.  Dalton  stared  at  Flora  in  amazement.  She  could  not  in 
the  least  comprehend  her  enthusiasm.  "  Who  cares  for  a  slave?" 
she  said,  contemptuously.  "  You  must  live  among  them,  and  be 
conversant  with  their  habits,  before  you  can  understand  their 
inferiority.  One  would  think  that  you  belonged  to  the  Anti- 
Slavery  Society,  to  hear  the  warmth  with  which  you  argue  the 
case.  Do  you  belong  to  that  odious  Society  ? — for  I  understand 
that  many  pious  women  make  themselves  vastly  busy  in  publicly 
discussing  the  black  question." 

"  I  have  many  dear  friends  who  are  among  its  staunch  sup- 
porters— both  men  and  women,  whose  motives  are  purely  benevo- 
lent, who  have  nothing  to  gain  by  the  freedom  of  the  slaves, 
beyond  the  satisfaction  of  endeavoring  to  forward  a  good  work, 
which,  if  it  succeeds,  (and  we  pray  God  that  it  may,)  will  restore 
a  large  portion  of  the  human  family  to  their  rights  as  immortal 
and  rational  creatures." 

"  Mere  cant — the  vanity  of  making  a  noise  in  the  world — one 
of  the  refined  hypocrisies  of  the  present  age.  By-the-bye,  my  dear 
Madam,  have  you  read  a  tract  published  lately  by  this  disinterested 
Society,  called  the  History  of  Mary  P ?    It  is  set  forth  to  be 


» at.  tiii  Aifcia  uyi  laitfwtfc  a 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


125 


au  authentic  narrative,  while  I  know  enough  of  the  WeBt  Indies, 
to  pronounce  it  a  tissue  of  falsehoods  from  beginning  to  end." 

"  Did  you  know  Mary  P ?" 

"  I  wonder  who  does  ?  It  is  an  imaginary  tale  got  up  for  party 
purposes." 

"  You  are  mistaken,"  said  Flora,  quietly.  "  That  narrative  is 
strictly  true.  I  was  staying,  the  winter  before  last,  with  her  mis; 
tress  in  London,  and  I  wrote  it  myself  from  the  woman's  own  lips." 

"  You  !"  and  Mrs.  Dalton  started  from  the  ground  as  though  she 
had  been  bitten  by  a  serpent — "  and  I  have  been  talking  all  this 
time  to  the  author  of  Mary  P — .  From  this  moment.  Madam,  wo 
must  regard  ourselves  as  strangers.  No  West  Indian  could  for  a 
moment  tolerate  the  writer  of  that  odious  pamphlet." 

Mrs.  Dalton  retired  to  her  berth,  which  was  in  the  state  cabin  ; 
and  Flora  lay  awake  for  several  hours,  pondering  over  their  conver- 
sation, until  the  morning  broke,  and  the  steamer  cast  anchor  oCf 
New  Haven. 


CHAPTER   XX. 


ISDINBURQH.  . 

The  storm  had  passed  away  during  the  night ;  and  at  day-break 
Flora  hurried  upon  deck,  to  catch  the  first  glance  of 

"  The  glorious  land  of  flood  and  fell, 
The  noble  north  couatric." 

The  sun  was  still  below  the  horizon,  and  a  thick  mist  hunj?  over 
tlie  waters,  and  hid  the  city  from  her  view.  Oh,  for  the  rising  of 
that  white  curtain  I  how  Flora  tried  to  peer  through  its  vapory 
folds,  to 

♦*  Hail  old  Scotia's  darling  seat," 

the  beautiful  abode  of  brave,  intelligent,  true-hearted  men,  and  fair 
good  women.  Glorious  Edinburgh  !  who  ever  beheld  you  for  the 
first  time  with  indifference,  and  felt  not  his  eyes  brighten,  and  his 
heart  thrill  with  a  proud  ecstasy,  the  mingling  of  his  spirit  with 
a  scene,  in  which  romantic  sublimity,  has  not  its  equal  in  the  wide 
world 

•'  Who  would  not  dare 
To  fight  for  such  a  land  I" 

exclaims  the  patriotic  wizard  of  the  north.    Aye,  and  to  die  for  it| 


126 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


I 


I 


if  need  be,  as  every  true-hearted  Scot  would  die,  rather  than  see  one 
stain  cast  upon  the  national  glory  of  his  noble  country.  The  char- 
acter of  a  people  is  greatly  influenced  by  the  local  feauturcs  of  the 
land  to  which  it  belongs ;  and  the  inhabitants  of  mountainous  dis< 
tricts  have  ever  evaded  most  effectually  the  encroachments  of  for- 
eign invaders.  The  Scot  may,  perhaps,  derive  from  his  romantic 
jcountry,  much  of  that  poetic  temperament,  that  stern,  uncompro- 
mising lo\  e  of  independence,  which  has  placed  him  in  the  first  rank 
as  a  man. 

The  sun  at  length  rose  ;  the  fog  rolled  its  grey  masses  upwards, 
and  the  glorious  old  castle  emerged  from  between  the  parting 
clouds,  like  some  fabled  palace  of  the  gods,  its  antique  towers 
glittering  like  gold  in  the  sun-burst.  i 

"  Beautiful !  oh,  how  beautiful  1"  exclaimed  the  enraptured  Flora, 
her  eye  kindling,  and  her  cheek  flushing  with  delight. 

"  The  situation  of  Quebec  is  almost  as  fine,"  said  Captain  Forbes, 
who  had  been  watching  with  pleasure  the  eflfect  which  the  first 
Bight  of  his  native  city  produced  upon  her  countenance.  "  It  will 
lose  little  by  comparison." 

"  Indeed !"  cried  Flora,  eagerly,  turning  to  the  speaker ;  "  I  had 
formed  no  idea  of  anything  in  Canada  being  at  all  equal  to  this." 

'*  You  have  been  there,  Captain?"  said  Lyndsay. 

"  Yes,  many  times ;  and  always  with  increased  pleasure.  Quo- 
bee  combines  every  object  that  is  requisite  to  make  a  scene  truly 
magnificent — woods,  mountains,  rivers,  cataracts — and  all  on  the 
most  stupendous  scale.  A  lover  of  nature  cannot  fail  to  be 
delighted  with  the  rock-defended  fortress  of  British  North  Ame- 
rica." 

"You  have  made  me  quite  happy,  Captain  Forbes,"  said  Flora; 
"  I  have  contemplated  a  residence  in  Canada  with  feelings  of  such 
antipathy,  that  your  description  of  Quebec  almost  reconciles  me  to 
my  lot.  I  can  never  hate  a  country  which  abounds  in  natural 
beauty.*' 

Boats  were  now  constantly  plying  to  and  from  the  shore,  con- 
veying passengers  and  their  luggage  from  the  ship  to  the  pier. 
The  Captain,  who  had  recognised  a  countryman  in  Lyndsay, 
insisted  on  the  voyagers  taking  breakfast  with  him  before  they  left 
the  vessel.  Mrs.  Lyndsay  had  suffered  so  much  from  sea-sickness, 
that  she  hj^i  not  tasted  food  since  she  came  on  board ;  early  rising 


FLOUA    I.YNDSAY. 


12Y 


Ig 


snd  the  keen,  invigorating  air  had  sharpened  her  appetite,  which 
wa3  increased  by  the  savory  smell  of  fried  ham  and  eggs.  Tho 
offer  was  too  tempting  to  be  resisted,  ami  she  accepted  it  with  such 
hearty  good  will-  that  the  Captain  hiughed,  and  rul)bod  hig  hundrt 
in  the  excess  of  hos]jitab]e  satisfaction,  as  he  called  to  his  steward 
to  place  a  small  table  under  an  awning  upon  the  deck,  and  serve 
the  breakfast  there. 

"  You  will  enjoy  it  much  more  in  thft  fresh  air,  Mrs.  Lyndsay," 
lie  said,  "after  your  severe  illncFis,  than  in  the  close  air." 

Flora  wag  defighted  with  the  arrangement,  and  sot  the  Captain 
•down  as  a  man  of  taste,  as  by  this  means  he  hiid  provided  for  her 
ft  double  feast — the  beautiful  scicncry  which  on  evei-y  side  met  hcc 
gaze,  and  an  excellent  breakfast,  served  in  the  balmy  morning  air. 

The  rugged  grace  with  which  the  gallant  tar  presided  at  what 
might  be  termed  his  own  private  table,  infused  a  cheerful  spirit 
into  those  around  him,  and  never  was  a  meal  more  heartily  enjoyed 
Ijy  our  emigrants.  James  ILiwkc,  who  Irad  been  confined  during 
the  whole  voyage  to  his  berth,  now  rejoined  his  friends,  and  ate  of 
the  savory  things  before  him  in  such  dowmight  earnest,  that  the 
Captain  declared  it  was  a  pleasure  to  watdi  the  Uwl  liandlo  his  knifo 
and  fork. 

"  AVhen  a  fellow  has  been  starving  for  eight  and-forty-hoiu's,  it  is 
not  a  trifle  that  can  SKtiefy  his  hunger,"  said  Jim,  makhig  a  vigor- 
ous onslaught  upon  a  leg  of  Scotch  mutton.  "  Oh  !  but  I  never 
was  so  hungry  in  my  life !" 

"  Xot  even  during  those  two  disastrous  days  last  week,  which  wc 
si)cnt  starviag  at  sea?"  said  Flora. 

"  Ah,  don't  name  them,"  said  thelwy,  with  an  air  of  intense  dis- 
gust. "  Those  days  were  attended  with  such  qualms  of  conscience 
"that  I  have  banished  them  from  llic  log  of  life  altogether.  Oil, 
those  dreadful  days  1" 

"Wh}',  Jim,  you  malfe  a  v/ovee  sailor  than  I  expected,"  said 
Flora ;  '•  how  shall  we  get  you  alive  to  Canada  ?" 

"  Oh,  never  fear,"  said  tlie  kid,  gaily  ;  "  I  have  cast  all  those  hor- 
rible reminiscences  into  the  sea ;  I  v.as  very  ill,  but  'tis  all  over 
now,  and  i  feel  as  liglit  as  a  feather  ;  you  shall  see  that  I  shall  be 
quite  myself  again,  directly  we  leave  sight  of  the  British  shores." 

On  returning  to  the  ladies'  cabin,  to  point  out  her  luggage  to  the 
cteward  of  the  boat.  Flora  found  that  important  functionary  of  the 
gcudor  feaaiiiijie,  pacing  to  and  Sxo  the  -uow  empty  scene  of  all  her 


128 


FLORA    LTXDBAT, 


trouble  in  lii<?li  disdain.  She  had  paid  very  little  attention  to  Mrs. 
Lyndsay  during  the  voyage,  for  which  neglect,  in  all  probability, 
the  merino  gown  was  the  sole  cause.  She  had  waited  with  the 
most  obsequious,  iuwniug  politeuess  on  Mrs.  Major  F.  and  Mrs. 
Dalton,  because  she  fancied  thoy  were  rich  people,  who  would  amply 
reward  her  for  her  services.  They  had  given  her  all  the  trouble 
Ihey  possibly  could,  while  she  had  received  few  comraauds  from 
Flora,  and  those  slie  had  neglected  to  perform.  Still,  as  Flora  well 
knew  that  the  jmid  salary  of  these  people  is  small,  and  that  they 
mainly  depend  upon  the  trifles  bestowed  upon  them  by  passengers, 
who  try  their  strength  and  patience  to  the  uttermost,  she  slipped 
half-a-ci'ovvn  into  her  hand,  and  begged  her  to  see  that  the  trunks 
she  had  pointed  out  were  carried  upon  deck. 

The  woman  stared  at  her,  and  dropped  a  low  courtesy — yes — in 
the  veiy  sluvdow  of  the  ample  folds  of  Flora's  despised  merino 
gown. 

"La,  ]Mem,  you  are  one  of  the  vciy  few  of  our  passengers,  who 
has  been  kind  enough  to  remember  the  stewardess.  It's  too  bad — 
indeed  it  is.  And  all  tlie  trouble  that  that  Mrs.  Dalton  gave  with 
lier  spoilt  children,  and  nasty  black  vagabond.  I  was  out  of  my 
bed  all  last  night  with  those  croas  noisy  brats — and  thinks  I  to 
myself — she  cannot  do  less  tkm  give  ma  half  a  sovereign  for  my 
services.  But  would  you  believe  me,  slie  went  off  without  bestow- 
ing on  me  a  single  pem^y  ?  And  worse  than  that,  I  heard  her  tell 
the  big  fat  woman,  that  never  rose  up  in  her  berth,  but  to  drink 
bmndy-and-wat.T,  'tliat  it  was  a  bad  fashion  t]\o  Hinglish  had  of 
paying  servants,  and  the  sooner  it  was  got  rid  of,  the  better." 

"  I  perfectly  hagrccs  with  you,  said  the  fat  woman ;  and  so  she 
gave  nothing  ; — no — not  even  thanks.  Mrs.  Major  F pre- 
tended not  to  see  me,  though  I  am  sure  I'm  no  midge ;  and  I  stood 
in  the  doorway  on  purpose  to  give  her  a  hint ;  but  the  hideous  little 
old  maid  told  me  to  get  out  of  the  way,  as  she  wanted  to  go  upon 
deck  to  speak  to  the  Major.  Oh,  the  meanness  of  these  would-bo 
fine  ladles !  But  if  ever  they  come  to  Scotland  in  this  boat  again, 
won't  I  pay  them  off!" 

Now  it  must  be  confessed  that  Flora  rather  enjoyed  these  unso- 
licited confessions  of  a  disappointed  stewardess ;  and  she  was  forcal 
to  turn  away  her  head  for  fear  of  betraying  a  wicked  inclination  to 
laugh,  which,  if  indulged  in  at  that  moment  would  I  have  no  doubt, 
have  afforded  her  great  satisfaction  and  delight.    As  it  was,  she 


i 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


129 


made  no  comment  upon  the  mcannoBs  of  her  fellow-paasengcrs,  nor 
consoled  the  excited  stewardess  by  complaining  of  their  unlady-like 
conduct  to  herself.  "What  they  were  in  their  rank  of  life,  the  stew- 
ardess was  in  hers.  They  were  congenial  souls — all  belonging  to 
the  same  family,  and  Flora  was  not  a  little  amused  by  the  striking 
points  of  resemblance. 

Bidding  adieu  to  the  Captain  of  the  steamer,  the  Lyndsays  and 
their  luggage  were  safely  landed  on  the  chain-pier  at  New  Haven  ; 
from  thence  they  proceedetl  to  Lcith  in  a  hackney  coach,  as  Lynd- 
say  wished  to  procure  lodgings  as  near  the  place  of  embarkation  as 
possible,  in  order  to  avoid  all  unnecessary  expense.  Leaving  Flora 
and  her  maid  at  the  inn,  he  set  off  with  James  Ilawke  in  search  of 
what  he  required  ;  and  returning  in  less  than  an  hour,  he  conducted 
his  wife  to  the  house  of  a  respectable  woman,  the  widow  of  a  sur- 
geon, who  resided  near  the  Lieth  Bank,  and  only  a  few  minutes' 
walk  from  the  wharf. 


CHAPTER   XXI. 


she 

pi'C- 

:oo(} 
ittlo 
ipon 
d-bo 
rain. 


)ubt, 
shu 


MRS.   WADDEL. 

Great  was  the  surprise  of  Flora,  when,  instead  of  entering  tho 
house  by  a  front  door,  they  walked  up  an  interminable  flight  of 
stone  stairj,  every  landing  comprising  a  distinct  dwelling,  or  flat 
(as  it  is  there  technically  termed),  with  the  names  of  the  proprio* 
tors  marked  on  the  doors.  At  last  they,  reached  the  flat  that  was 
occupied  by  good  Mistress  Waddel,  which  was  situated  at  the  very 
top  of  this  stony  region.  Mrs.  Waddel  was  at  the  door  ready  to 
receive  them.  She  showed  them  into  a  comfortable  sitting-room 
with  windows  fronting  the  street  A  bright  fire  was  blazing  in  a 
very  old-fashioned  grate  ;  and  she  welcomed  her  new  lodgers  with 
a  torrent  of  kindly  words,  pronounced  in  the  broadest  Scotch  dia- 
lect, wliich  were  only  half  understood  by  the  English  portion  of  her 
audience. 

A  large,  portly  personage  was  Mrs.  Waddel — ugly,  amiable,  and 
by  no  means  over-particular  in  her  dress ;  which  consisted  of  a 
wollen-plaid,  very  much  faded,  and  both  ragged  and  dirty.  Her 
large  mutch,  with  its  broad  frills,  formed  a  sort  of  glory  round  her 
head,  setting  off  to  no  advantage  her  pock-marked,  flabby  face, 
wide  mouth  and  yellow  projecting  teeth.   She  had  a  comical,  good* 

6* 


>1 


180 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


i 


naturod  obliquity  of  vision  in  her  prominent  liglit-grcy  cyog,  which 
were  very  rod  about  tlie  rims  ;  and  Flora  thought,  na  she  read  with 
an  inciulring  eye  the  countenance  of  their  landlady,  that,  without 
being  positively  di.sgusting,  she  was  the  most  ordinary,  uncouth 
woman  she  ever  beheld. 

Mrs.  Waddel  was  eloquent  in  the  praise  of  her  apartments,  which 
Bho  said  had  been  occupieil  by  my  Leddy  W.,  when  his  Majesty 
George  the  Fourth — G04I  bless  his  sorsy  face — landctl  at  Lcith,  on 
his  visit  to  Scotland.  Iler  loilgings,  it  seemed,  had  acquired  quito 
an  aristocratic  character  since  the  above-named  circumstances ; 
and  not  a  day  patscd,  but  the  good  woman  enumerated  all  the  par- 
ticulars of  that  memorable  visit.  But  her  own  autobiography  was 
the  stock-theme  with  the  good  landlady.  The  most  minute  par- 
ticulars of  her  private  history  she  daily  divulged,  to  the  unspeak- 
able delight  of  the  mischievous,  laughter-loving  Ju.mes  ITawke, 
who,  because  ho  saw  that  it  annoyed  Mrs.  Lyndaay,  was  sure  to 
lead  the  convcftation  slily  to  some  circumstance  that  never  failed 
to  place  the  hone3t-hearte<l  Scotch  woman  on  her  high-horse  : 
and  then  she  would  talk — ye  gods! — how  she  would  talk — and 
spluttci  away  ift  her  broad  provincial  dialect,  until  the  wicked  boy 
was  convulsed  with  laughter. 

"  Aye,  Mister  Jeames,"  she  would  say,  "  ye  will  a'  be  raakin'  ycr 
fun  0'  a  puir  auld  bodic,  but  'tis  na'  caunie  o'  ye." 

"  Making  fun  of  you,  Mrs.  Waddel  " — with  a  sly  glance  at  Flora 
— "  how  can  you  take  such  an  odd  notion  into  your  head!  It  is 
BO  good  of  you  to  tell  me  all  about  your  courtship — it's  giving  me 
a  hint  of  how  I'm  to  go  about  it  when  I'm  a  man.  I  am  sure  you 
were  a  very  pretty,  smart  girl  in  your  young  days  " — with  another 
quizzical  glance  at  Flora. 

The  old  lady  drew  herself  up,  and  smiled  approvingly  upon  her 
black-eyed  tormentor. 

"  Na,  na,  Mister  Jeames,  n^y  gude  man  that's  dead  an'  gane  said 
to  me,  the  verra  day  tb»l  ;ur,de  me  his  ain — '  Katie,  ye  are  nae  bon- 
nie,  but  ye  a'  gude,  which  is  a'  hantle  better.'  " 

"  No  doubt  he  was  right,  Mrs.  Waddel ;  but  I  really  think  he 
was  very  ungallant  to  say  so  on  his  wedding-day,  and  did  not  do 
you  half  justice." 

"  Weel,  weel,'"  said  the  good  dame,  "  every  ain  to  his  taste.  He 
was  not  o'wr  gifted  that  way  himsel ;  but  we  are  nane  sensible  o' 
our  ain  defects." 


*-LOnA    lA-NDSAY. 


131 


It  is 


The  great  attraction  in  the  small,  windowltss  closot  in  which 
James  slept,  was  an  enormous  calabash,  which  her  son,  the  idol  of 
Mrs.  Waddd's  luiurt,  had  l)roujjlit  honiu  with  him  from  tlio  South 
iJojis.  Over  this  calabash,  tUe  .sin^ple-hcartcd  mof Iwt  daily  rehearsed 
all  the  wonderful  adveutures  she  had  gathered  from  that  individual, 
tlurinjj  his  short  visits  home,  aud  as  she  possessed  a  surprisingly 
retentive  meniuiy,  her  matcnial  reminiscen(x;s  would  have  filled  vol- 
umes— to  all  (I'  A'hich  James  listened  with  the  most  earnest  atten- 
tion ;  not  on  account  of  the  adventures,  for  they  were  common-placo 
enou<jh,  but  for  the  mere  pleasure  of  hearing  Mrs.  Wadilel  tiilk 
broad  Scotch,  from  which  he  seemed  to  derive  tlie  most  ludicroui? 
enjoyment.  Mrs.  Wtuldcl  had  two  daughters,  to  whom  nature  had 
been  less  bountiful  than  even  to  herself.  'J'all,  awkward,  shapeless 
dawdles,  whose  unlovely  youtli  Avas  more  repulsive  than  the  mother's 
fuU-blowu,  homely  age — with  them  the  old  lady's  innocent  oliliquity 
of  vision  had  degeueratal  into  a  downright  squint,  and  the  redness 
round  the  rims  of  their  large,  Gshy-looking,  light  eyes,  gave  you 
the  idea  of  perpetual  weeping;  a  pairofNiobes,  versus  the  beauty, 
whose  swollen  orbs  were  always  dii^solved  in  tears.  They  crejit 
slip-shod  about  the  house,  their  discoloretl  stockings  hanging  in 
loase  folds  about  their  thin,  bony,  ill-shaped  logs,  and  their  morning 
wrappers  fitting  so  easily  their  wide,  slovenly  figures,  that  you 
expected  to  see  them  suddejily  fall  to  the  ground,  and  the  young 
ladies  walk  on  in  native  simplicity. 

"  My  daughters  are  like  myself — na'  bonnie,"  said  Mrs.  "Waddel. 
"  They  dinna'  tak'  wi'  the  men  folk,  wha  look  mair  to  comliness 
than  gudeness  now-a-days  in  a  wife.  A'  weol,  every  dog  maun  ha' 
his  day,  an'  they  may  get  husbands  yet. 

"  I  wccl  remember,  when  Noncy  was  a  bairn,  she  was  the  maist 
ugsome  wee  thing  I  ever  clappit  an  e'e  upon.  My  Leddy  \V. 
lodged  in  this  verra  room,  in  the  which  we  are  no'  sittin'.  She 
had  a  daughter,  nearly  a  woman  grown,  an'  I  was  in  my  sma'  back 
parlor  washin'  an'  dressin'  the  bairn, — in  runs  my  Leddy  Grace, 
an'  she  stood  an'  lookit  an'  lookit  a  lang  time  at  the  naked  bairn 
in  my  lap  :  at  last  she  clappit  her  hands,  an'  she  called  o'ot  to  her 
mither — *  Mamma !  mamma !  for  gudeness  sake,  come  here,  an' 
look  at  this  ugly,  blear-eyed,  bandy-legget  child ! — ^I  never  saw  sic 
an  object  in  a'  my  life  I' 

"  It  made  my  heart  sair  to  hear  her  despise  a  creture  made  in 
God's  image  in  that  way,  an'  I  bursted  into  tears,  an'  said — '  My 


132 


IXOEA     LYITDSAY. 


young 


ledda,  ye'r  a  bad  Christian  to  spier  m  tliat  waj  o'  my  puir  bairn, 
an'  that  in  the  heurin'  of  ita  aiu  laithcr.  May  God  forgive  you ; 
but  you  ha'  a  hard  heart.'  She  waa  verra  angry  at  my  reproof, 
but  my  licddy  W.  just  then  came  in,  an'  she  said,  with  one  of  her 
ain  gracious  smiles — *  For  shara«,  Grace  ;  the  bairn's  weel  enough. 
Let  us  hope  she  maun  prove  a  blessin'  to  her  parents.  The 
Btraightest  tree  does  na'  always  bear  the  finest  fruit.' 

"  I  ha'  met  wi'  money  crosses  and  sair  trials  in  my  day ;  but  few 
o'  them  made  me  shed  bitterer  tears  than  that  proud,  handsome 
leddy's  speech  on  the  deformity  o'  my  puir  bairn." 

Flora  stood  reproved  in  her  own  eyes,  for  she  knew  she  bad 
regarded  the  poor,  ugly  girls  with  feelings  of  repugnance,  on 
account  of  their  personal  defects.  Even  Jim,  careless  and  reckless 
though  he  was,  possessed  an  excellent  heart,  and  he  looked  grave, 
and  ttlrned  to  the  window,'  and  tried  to  hum  a  tune,  to  get  rid  of 
an  unpleasant  sensation  about  his  throat,  which  Mrs.  Waddcl's 
artless  words  had  suddenly  produced. 

"  Hang  me,"  he  muttered  half  aloud,  "  if  I  ever  laugh  at  the 
poor  girls  again  1" 

Mrs.  Waddel  had,  in  common  with  most  of  her  sex,  a  great 
predilection  for  going  to  auctioivs ;  and  scarcely  a  day  passed 
witliout  her  making  some  wonderful  bargains.  For  a  mere  trifle, 
she  had  bought  a  gude  pot ;  only,  upon  inspection,  it  turned  out  to 
be  miserably  leaky.  A  nice  pallia'^  ^  which,  on  more  intimiitc 
acquaintance,  proved  alive  with  gentry  with  whom  tlie  most  repub- 
lican body  would  not  wish  to  be  on  intimate  terms.  Jim  was 
always  joking  the  old  lady  upon  her  bargains,  greatly  to  the  edifi- 
cation of  Betty  Fraser,  a  black-cycd  llighlaiul  girl,  who  was  Mrs. 
Waddel's  prime  minister  in  the  culinary  department. 

"  Weel,  Mister  Jeames,  jist  ha'  yer  laugh  o'ot,  but  when  ye  get 
a  glint  o'  the  bonnie  table  I  bought  this  moruin'  for  three  an'  sax- 
pence,  ye'U  be  noo  makin'  game  o'  me  ony  mair,  I'm  thinkin'. 
Betty,  ye  maun  just  step  o'ur  the  curb-stane  to  the  broker's,  an* 
bring  harac  the  table." 

Away  sped  the  nimble-footed  Betty,  and  we  soon  lieard  the  clat^ 
tering  of  the  table,  as  the  leaves  flai)ped  to  and  fro  as  she  lugged 
it  up  the  public  stairs. 

"  Now  for  the  great  bargain  1"  cxdaimod  the  saucy  Jim ;  "  I 
think,  Mrs.  Waddel,  I'll  buy  it  of  you,  as  my  venture  to  Canada." 

"  Did  ye  ever  I"  exclaimed  the  old  laay,  her  eyes  brightening  aa 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


13S 


Betty  dragged  in  the  last  bargain,  and  placed  it  triumphantly 
before  her  mistress.  Like  the  Marquis  of  Anglesea,  it  had  been  in 
the  wars,  and  with  a  terrible  clatter,  the  incomparable  table  fell 
prostrate  to  the  floor.  Betty  opened  her  great  black  eyes  with  a 
glance  of  blank  astonishment,  and  raising  her  hands  with  a  tragic 
air  that  was  perfectly  irresistible,  exclaimed,  "  Mercy  me,  but  it 
wants  a  fut !" 

"  A  what  ?"  screamed  Jim,  as  he  sank  beside  the  fallen  table 
and  rolled  upon  the  ground  in  a  fit  of  irrepressible  merriment ; 
"  Do,  for  Heaven's  sake,  tell  me  the  English  for  a  fut.  Oh  dear, 
I  shall  die !  Why  do  you  make  such  funny  purchases,  Mrs.  Wad- 
del,  and  siifier  Betty  to  show  them  off  in  such  a  funny  way  ? 
You  win  be  the  death  of  me,  indeed  you  will ;  and  then,  what  will 
my  mammy  say  ?"  • 

To  add  to  this  ridiculous  scene,  Mrs.  Waddel's  grey  parrot,  who 
was  not  the  leasi;  important  personage  in  her  establishment,  having 
been  presented  to  her  by  her  sailor  son,  fraternized  with  the  pros- 
trate lad,  and  echoed  his  laughter  in  the  most  outrageous  man- 
ner. 

"  Whist,  Poll !  Ilauld  yer  clatter.  It's  no  laughing  matter  to 
lose  three  an'  saxpence  in  buying  tiie  like  o'  that." 

Mrs.  Waddel  did  not  attend  another  auction  during  the  month 
the  Lyndsay's  occupied  her  lodgings.  With  regard  to  Betty  Fra- 
.sor,  Jim  picked  up  a  page  out  of  her  history,  which  greatly  amused 
Flora  Lyndsay,  who  delighted  in  the  study  of  human  character. 
We  will  give  it  here. 

Betty  Eraser's  first  mistress  was  a  Highland  ladv.who  had  mar- 
ricd  and  settled  in  Edinburgh.  On  her  first  confinement,  she  eould 
I'liucy  no  one  but  a  Highland  girl  to  take  care  of  the  babe,  when 
the  regular  nurse  was  employed  about  her  own  person.  She 
thorcfore  wrote  to  her  mother  to  send  her  by  the  first  vessel  that 
sailed  for  Edinburgh,  a  good,  simple-hearted  girl,  whom  she  could 
occasionally  trust  with  the  baby.  Betty,  who  was  a  tenant's 
iliiughter,  and  a  humble  scion  of  the  great  family-tree,  duly  arrived 
by  the  next  ship. 

She  was  a  hearty,  healthy,  rosy  girl  of  fourteen,  as  rough  as  her 
native  wilds,  with  a  mind  so  free  from  guile  that  she  gave  a  literal 
interpretation  to  everything  she  saw  and  heard. 

In  Canada,  Betty  would  have  been  considered  very  green.  In 
Scotland  sho  was  regarded  as  a  truthful,  simple-hearted  girl.    A 


^ 


w        134 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


1 


"Is  the  baby 


few  weeks  after  the  baby  was  born,  some  ladies  called  to  see  Mrs. 

.     The  weather-  was  very  warm,  and  one  of  them  requested 

the  neat  black-eyed  girl  in  waiting  to  fetch  her  a  glass  of  water. 
Betty  obeyed  with  a  smiling  facQ ;  but  oh,  horror  of  horrors  I  she 
brought  the  clear  crystal  to  the  lady  guest  in  her  red  fist. 

The  lady  smiled,  drank  the.  water,  and  returned  the  tumbler  to 
the  black-eyed  Hebe,  who  received  it  with  a  profound  courtesy. 

When  the  visitors  were  gone,  Mrs. ,  who  was  very  fond  of 

her  young  clanswoman,  called  her  to  her  side,  and  said,  "  Betty,  let 
me  never  see  you  bring  anything  into  my  room  in  your  bare  hands. 
Always  put  what  you  arc  asked  for  on  to  a  waiter  or  an  ashat." 

The  girl  promised  obedience.  '  ;'> 

The  very  next  day  some  strange  ladies  called ;  and  after  congratu- 
lating Mrs. on  her  speedy  recovery,  they  expressed  an  earnest 

wish  to  see  the  "  dear  little  baby" 

Mrs.  rang  the  bell.     Betty  appeared. 

awake  ?" 

"Yes,  ray  leddy."  A 

"  Just  bring  him  in  to  show  these  ladies." 

Betty  dartal  into  the  nursery,  only  too  proud  of  tli  ission,  and 
telling  nurse  to  "  mak'  the  young  laird  brau,"  ehe  rushed  to  tlie 
kitchen,  and  demanded  of  the  cook  a  "  muckle  big  ashat." 

"  What  do  you  want  with  the  dish?"  said  the  English  cook. 

"  That's  my  ain  business,"  quoth  Betty,  taking  the  enormous 
china  platter  from  the  cook's  hand,  and  running  back  to  the 
nursery.  "  Here,  Mistress  Norman,  here  is  ain  big  enough  to  hand 
hira  in,  at  ony  rate.  Pray  lay  his  wee  duds  smooth,  an  I'll  tak' 
him  in,  for  I  hear  the  bell." 

"  Are  ye  duff,  lass  ?    Would  ye  put  the  bairn  on  the  ashat  ?" 

"  Aye,  mistress  tauld  mo  to  bring  what  she  asked  me  for  on  an 
ashat.     Sure  ye  wud  no'  ha'  me  disobey  her?"  t 

"  Na,  na,"  said  the  nurse,  laughing,  and  suspecting  some  odd 
mistake.     "  Ye  sal'  ha'  it  yer  ain  way." 

And  she  carefully  laid  the  noble  babe  upon  the  .dish,  and  went 
before  to  open  the  door  that  led  to  Mrs. 's  chamber. 

Betty  entered  as  briskly  as  her  unwieldy  burden  would  permit, 
and  with  glowing  cheeks,  and  eyes  glistening  with  honest  delight, 
presented  her  human  offering  in  the  huge  dish  to  the  oldest  female 
visitor  in  the  room. 

With  a  scream  of  surprise,  followed  by  a  perfect  hurricane  of 


# 


FLORA    LYND3AY. 


135 


laughter,  the  venerable  dame  received  the  precious  gift  from  Betty's 
hand,  and  holding  it  towards  the  astonished  mother,  exclaimed, 
"  Truly,  my  dear  friend,  this  is  a  dish  fit  to  set  before  a  king.  Our 
beloved  sovereign  would  have  no  objection  of  seeing  a  dish  so  filled 
with  royal  fruit,  placed  at  the  head  of  his  own  table." 

The  laugh  became  general ;  and  poor  Betty,  comprehending  the 
blunder  she  had  committed,  not  only  fled  from  the  scene,  but  dread- 
ing the  jokes  of  her  fellow-servants,  fled  from  the  house. 


' 


«li- 


CHAPTER   XXII. 


^ 


CLIMBING   THE    MOUNTAINS. 


The  Lyndsays,  to  their  infinite  mortification  and  disappointment, 
found,  upon  their  arrival  at  Leith,  that  the  Chieftain,  in  wliich  ves- 
sel their  places  had  been  taken  for  Canada,  had  sailed  only  two 
days  before.  To  make  bad  worse,  Mrs.  Waddel  confidently  affirmed, 
that  it  was  the  very  last  vessel  that  would  sail  that  season. 

Lyndsay,  who  never  yielded  to  despondency,  took  these  contrary 
events  very  philosophically,  and  lost  no  time  in  making  inquiries 
among  the  ship-owners,  to  ascertain  whether  Mrs.  Waddel  was 
right. 

After  several  days  of  anxious,  and  almost  hopeless  search,  he  was 
at  last  informed  that  the  Flora,  Captain  Ayre,  was  to  leave  for 
Canada  in  a  fortnight.  The  name  seemed  propitious,  and  that  very 
afternoon  he  walked  down  with  his  wife  to  inspect  the  vessel. 

The  Flora  was  a  small  brig,  very  old,  very  dirty,  and  with 
wretched  accommodations.  The  Captain  was  a  brutal-looking  per- 
son, blind  of  one  eye,  and  very  lame.  Every  third  word  he  uttered 
was  an  oath ;  and,  instead  of  answering  Mr.  Lyndsay's  inquiries,  he 
was  engaged  in  a  blasphemous  dialogue  with  his  two  sons,  who 
were  his  first  and  second  mates.  The  young  men  seemed  worthy 
of  their  parentage ;  their  whole  conversation  being  interlarded  with 
frightful  imprecations  on  their  own  limbs  and  souls,  and  the  limbs 
and  souls  of  others. 

They  had  a  very  lage  number  of  steerage  passengers  engaged, 
for  the  very  small  size  of  the  vessel,  and  these  emigrants  of  the  very 
lowest  description. 

''  Don't  lot  us  go  in  this  horrible  vencl/'  whiapored  Flora  to  h«r 


136 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


husband.    "  What  a  captain — what  a  crew — we  shall  be  miserable 
if  we  form  any  part  of  her  live  cargo  I" 

"  I  fear,  my  dear  girl,  there  is  no  alternative.  We  may,  per- 
haps, hear  of  another  before  th.e  saiis.  I  won't  engage  places  in 
her  until  the  last  moment." 

The  dread  of  going  in  the  Flora  took  a  prophetic  hold  of  the 
mind  of  her  namesake  ;  and  she  begged  Jim  to  be  op  the  constant 
look  out  for  another  vessel. 

During  their  stay  at  Leith,  Lyndsay  was  busily  employed  in 
writing  a  concluding  chapter  to  his  work  on  the  Cape ;  and  Flora 
amused  herself  by  taking  long  walks,  accompanied  by  James,  the 
maid,  and  the  baby,  in  order  to  explore  all  the  beauties  of  £ldin- 
burgh.  The  lad,  who  was  very  clever,  and  possessed  a  wonderful 
faculty  of  remembering  places  and  of  finding  his  way  among  diffi- 
culties, always  acted  as  guide  on  these  occasions.  Before  he  had 
been  a  week  at  Leith,  he  knew  every  street  in  Edinburgh ;  had 
twice  or  thrice  climbed  the  heights  of  Arthur's  seat,  and  visited 
every  nook  in  the  old-  castle.  TJiere  was  not  a  ship  in  the  harbor 
of  Leith,  but  he  not  only  knew  her  name,  and  the  name  of  her 
captain,  but  he  had  made  himself  acquainted  with  some  of  her 
crew,  and  could  tell  her  freight  and  tonnage,  her  aige  and  capabili- 
tiee,  the  port  from  which  she  last  sailed,  and  the  port  to  which  she 
was  then  bound,  as  well  as  any  sailor  on  the  wharf.  It  was  really 
amazing  to  listen  of  an  evening  to  the  lad's  adventures,  end  all  the 
mass  of  information  he  had  acquired  during  his  long  rambles 
through  the  day. 

Flora  was  always  in  an  agony  lest  James  should  be  lost,  or  meet 
with  some  mishap  during  his  exploring  expeditions ;  but  Mistress 
Waddel  comforted  her  with  the  assurance,  "  That  a  cat,  throw  her 
which  way  you  wu'd,  lighted  a'  upon  her  feet — that  naught  was 
never  tent — an'  they  that  war'  born  to  be  hanget'  wu'd  never  bo 
drowned." 

So,  one  fine  afternoon  in  June,  Flora  took  it  into  her  wild  head, 
that  she  would  climb  to  the  top  of  the  mountain,  the  sight  of  which 
from  her  chamber  window  she  was  never  tired  of  contemplating. 
She  asked  her  husband  to  go  with  her.  She  begged — she  entreated 
— she  coaxed — but  he  was  just  writing  the  last  pages  of  his  long 
task,  and  he  told  her,  that  if  she  would  only  wait  until  the  next 
day,  he  would  go  with  pleasure. 

But  with  Madam  Flora,  it  was  this  day  or  none.    She  had  set 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


13T 


her  whole  heart  and  soul  upoD  going  up  to  the  top  of  the  mountain 
and  to  the  top  of  the  mountain  she  determined  to  go.  And  this 
resolution  was  formed  in  direct  opposition  to  her  husband's  wishes, 
and  with  a  perfect  knowledge  of  the  tale  of  the  dog  Ball,  which  had 
been  one  of  her  father's  stock  stories,  the  catastrophe  of  which  she 
had  known  from  a  child.  Lyndsay  did  not  tell  her  positively  she 
should  not  go  without  him  ;  and,  unable  to  control  her  impatience, 
she  gave  him  the  slip,  and  set  oil*  with  Jim,  who  was  only  too  eager 
for  the  frolic,  on  her  mountain  climbing  expedition. 

Now  be  it  known  unto  our  readers,  that  Flora  was  the  native  of 
a  rich  pastoral  country  ;  very  beautiful  in  running  brooks,  smooth 
meadows,  and  majestic  parks  ;  where  the  fat,  sleek  cattle,  so  celc- 
bratv^d  in  the  Ijondon  markets,  graze  knee-deep  in  luxuriant  pas- 
tures, and  the  fallow  deer  browzc  and  gambol  beneath  the  shadow 
of  majestic  oaks  through  the  long  bright  summer  days.  But  Flora 
had  never  seen  a  mountain  before  her  visit  to  the  North  in  her  life, 
had  never  risen  higher  in  the  world  than  to  the  top  of  Shooter's  hill, 
and  when  she  arrived  at  the  foot  of  this  grand  upheaval  of  nature, 
she  began  to  think  the  task  more  formidable  than  she  had  imagined 
at  a  distance.  Her  young  conductor,  agile  as  a  kid,  bounded  up 
the  steep  aclivity  with  as  much  ease,  as  if  he  were  running  over  a 
bowling  green. 

"  Not  so  fast,  Jim !"  cried  Flora,  pausing  to  draw  breath.  "  I 
cannot  climb  like  you." 

Jim  was  already  beyond  hearing,  and  was  lying  on  the  ground 
peering  over  a  projecting  crag  at  least  two  hundred  feet  above  her 
huad,  and  impishly  laughing  at  the  slow  progress  she  made. 
>^  "  Now  Jim !  that's  cruel  of  you,  to  desert  me  in  my  hour  of 
no2(l,"  said  Flora,  shaking  her  hand  at  the  young  mad-cap.  "  Lynd- 
say was  right  after  all.  I  had  better  have  waited  till  to-mor- 
row." 

Meanwhile,  the  path  that  wound  round  the  mountain  towanls 
the  summit  became  narrower  and  narrower,  and  the  ascent  more 
steep  and  difficult.  Flora  sat  down  upon  a  stone  amid  the  ruins  of 
the  chapel  to  rest,  and  to  enjoy  the  magnificent  prospect.  The  con- 
templation of  this  sublime  panorama  for  a  while  absorbed  every  other 
feeling.  She  was  only  alive  to  a  keen  sense  of  the  beautiful ;  and 
while  her  eye  rested  on  the  lofty  ranges  of  mountains  to  the  norlh 
and  south,  or  upon  the  broad  bosom  of  the  silver  Forth,  she  no 


1 

'■a 


138 


FLORA    LYKDSAY. 


longer  wondered  at  the  enthusiastic  admiration  expressed  by  the 
bards  of  Scotland  for  their  romantic  knd. 

While  absorbed  in  thought,  and  contr"-sting  the  present  with 
the  past,  a  lovely  boy  of  four  years  of  age,  in  kilt  and  hose,  his 
golden  curls  flying  in  the  wind,  ran  at  full  si^eed  up  the  steep  side 
of  the  hill ;  a  panting  woman,  without  bonnet  or  shawl,  following 
hard  upon  his  track,  shaking  her  fist  at  him,  and  vociferating  her 
commands  (doubtless  for  him  to  return)  in  (jiaelic,  fled  by. 

On  ran  the  laughing  child,  the  mother  after  him ;  but  as  wUl 
might  a  giant  pursue  a  fairy. 

Flora  followed  the  path  they  had  taken,  and  was  beginning  to 
enjoy  the  keen  bracing  air  of  the  hills,  when  she  happened  to  cast 
her  eyes  to  the  far-off  meadows  beneath.  Her  head  grew  suddenly 
giddy,  and  she  could  not  divest  herself  of  the  idea,  that  one  false 
p- ^  would  send  her  to  the  plains  below.  Here  was  a  most  ridicu- 
.  ^'^d  unromantic  position :  she  neither  dared  to  advance  nor 
iwt.;  i,i;  and  she  stood  grasping  a  letlge  of  tha  rocky  wall  in  an 
agony  of  cowardice  and  irresolution.  At  this  critical  moment,  the 
fiiOt"  ^r  oi'  ^  run-away  child  returned  panting  from  the  higher 
ledge  of  the  mountain,  and,  perceiving  Flora  pale  and  trembling, 
very  kindly  stopped  and  asked  what  ailed  her. 

Flora  could  not  help  laughing  while  she  confessed  her  fears,  lest 
she  should  fall  from  the  narrow  foot-path  on  which  she  stood. 
The  woman,  though  evidently  highly  amused  at  her  distress,  had 
too  nmch  native  kindliness  of  heart — which  is  tlie  mother  of  genu- 
ine politeness — to  yield  to  the  merriment  tliat  hovered  about  her 
lips. 

"  Ye  are  na'  accustomed  to  the  hills,"  she  said,  in  her  northern 
dialect,  ''  or  ye  wu'd  na'  dread  a  hillock  like  this.  Ye  suld  ha' 
been  born  whar'  I  wa'  born,  to  ken  a  mountain  fra'  a  mole-hill. 
There  is  my  bairn,  noo',  I  canna'  keep  him  fra'  the  moimtain.  He 
will  gang  awa'  to  the  tap,  an'  only  laughs  at  me  when  I  spier  to 
him  to  come  do'on.  It's  a'  because  he  is  sae  weel  begotten — an'  all 
his  forbears  war  reared  aniang  the  hills." 

The  good  woman  sat  down  upon  a  piece  of  the  loose  rock,  and 
commenced  a  long  history  of  herself,  of  her  husband,  and  of  the 
great  clan  of  Macdonald  (to  which  they  belonged),  that  at  last 
ended  in  the  ignoble  discovery,  that  her*  aristocratic  spouse  was  a 
corporal  in  the  Highland  regiment  then  stationed  in  Edinburgh, 
and  that  Flora,  his  wife,  washed  for  che  officers  in  the  said  regiment ; 


FLORA    LYND8AY. 


189 


that  the  little  Donald,  with  his  wild-goat  propensities,  was  their 
only  child,  and  so  attached  to  the  hills,  that  she  could  not  keep  him 
confined  to  the  meadows  below.  The  moment  her  eye  was  off  him, 
his  great  delight  was  to  lead  her  a  dance  up  the  mountain,  which, 
as  she,  by  her  own  account,  never  succeeded  in  catching  him,  was 
quite  labor  in  vain. 

All  this,  and  more,  the  good-natured  woman  communicated  in 
her  frank,  desultory  manner,  Jis  she  led  Flora  down  the  steep,  nar- 
row path  that  led  to  the  meadows  below.  Her  kindness  did  not 
end  here,  for  she  walked  some  way  up  the  road  to  put  Mrs.  Lynd- 
say  in  the  right  track  to  regain  her  lodgings,  for  Flora,  trusting  to 
the  pilotage  of  Jim,  was  perfectly  ignorant  of  the  location. 

This  Highland  Samaritan  indignantly  refused  the  piece  of  silver 
Flora  proffered  in  return  for  her  services. 

"  Hout,  leddy !  keep  the  siller !  I  wudna'  tak'  aught  fra'  ye  o' 
the  Sabbath-day  for  a  trifling  act  o'  courtesy — na,  na,  I  come  of 
too  gude  bluid  for  that !" 

There  was  a  noble  simplicity  about  the  honest-hearted  woman, 
that  was  not  lost  upon  Flora.  What  a  fine  country ! — what  a  fine 
people  !  No  smooth-tongued  flatterers,  are  these  Scotch  !  With 
them  an  act  of  kindness  is  an  act  of  duty ;  and  tliey  scorr>  payment 
for  what  they  give  gratuitously,  without  display  and  without  osten- 
tation. 

"  If  I  were  not  English,"  thought  Flora,  "  I  should  like  to  be 
Scotch." 

She  looked  rather  crest-fallen,  as  she  presented  herself  before  her 
Scotch  husband,  who,  instead  of  pitying,  laughwl  heartily  over  her 
misadventure ;  and  did  not  cease  to  tease  her  about  her  expedition 
to  the  mountain,  as  long  as  they  remained  in  its  vicinity. 

This  did  not  deter  her  from  taking  a  long  stroll  on  the  sands  "  o' 
I/!ith,"  the  next  afternoon,  with  James,  who.  delighted  in  these 
Quixotish  rambles ;  and  was  always  on  the  alert  to  join  m  any 
Bcheme  that  promised  an  adventure. 

It  was  a  lovely  afternoon.  The  snn  glittered  on  the  distant 
waters,  that  girdled  the  golden  sands  with  a  zone  of  blue  and  silver. 
The  air  was  fresh  and  elastic,  and  diffused  a  spirit  of  life  and  joy- 
ousness  around.  Flora,  as  she  followed  the  footsteps  of  her  young 
agile  conductor,  felt  a  child  again  ;  and  began  to  collect  shells  and 
sea-weeds,  with  as  much  zest  as  she  had  done  along  her  native  coast, 


uo 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


in  those  far  off,  happy  days,  which  at  times  returned  to  her  memory 
like  some  distinct,  but  distant  dream. 

For  hours  they  wandered  hither  and  thither,  lulled  by  the  sound 
of  the  waters,  and  amused  by  their  child-like  employment ;  until 
Flora  remarked,  that  her  footprints  filled  with  water  at  each  step, 
and  the  full  deep  roaring  of  the  sea  gave  notice  of  the  return  of  tho 
tide.  Fortuuatebr  they  were  not  very  far  from  the  land  ;  and  oh, 
what  a  race  they  had  to  gain  the  "Prin  o'  Leith,"  before  they 
were  overtaken  by  the  waves.  How  thankful  they  felt  that  they 
were  safe,  as  the  billows  chased  madly  past,  over  the  very  ground, 
which,  a  few  minutes  before,  they  had  so  fearlessly  trod  1 

"  This  is  rather  worse  than  the  mountain,  Mamma  Flora,"  (a 
favorite  name  with  James  for  his  friend  Mrs.  Lyndsay),  "  and 
might  have  been  fatal  to  us  both.  ^  I  think  Mr.  Lyndsay  would 
scold  this  time,  if  he  knew  our  danger." 

"  Thank  God !  the  baby  is  safe  at  home,"  said  Flora  ;  "  I 
forgot  all  about  the  tide.    What  a  mercy  we  were  not  drowned !" 

"  Yes ;  and  no  one  would  have  known  what  had  bewme  of  us. 
Really,  Mamma,  you  are  a  very  careless  woman."  This  was  eaid 
laughing. 

'*  Ilusb,  Jim  !  We  won't  quarrel  on  the  score  of  prudence.  But 
what  is  this? '  am  <he  stepped  up  to  a  blank  wall,  on  their  home- 
ward path,  and  read  aloud  the  following  advertisement : 

"To  sail  on  the  firet  of  July,  via  Quebec  and  Montreal,  the 
fiujt-sailiivg  brig  Anne,  Captain  Williams.  For  particulars,  inquire 
at  the  office  of  P.  Gregg,  Bank  Street,  Lcilh. 

"  N.  B.  The  Anne  is  the  last  ship  that  leaves  this  port,  for  Can- 
ada, during  the  season." 

"  Hurra!"  cried  tlie  volatile  Jim,  flinging  his  cap  into  the  f^ir ; 
"  a  fig  for  Captain  Ayrc  and  the  Flora.  I'd  lay  sixpence,  if  I  had 
it,  that  we  shall  sail  in  the  Amie." 

"  Let  us  go,  James,  and  look  at  the  vessel,"  cried  Flora,  clapping 
her  hands  with  delight.  "  Oh,  if  it  had  not  been  for  our  fright  on 
tlie  sands,  we  should  not  have  seen  this.  Surely,  nothing,  however 
trifling,  happens  to  us  in  vain." 

Flora  hastened  home  to  inform  her  husband  of  the  important  dis- 
covery they  had  made;  and  before  half-an-hour  had  elapsed,  she 
found  herself  in  company  with  hira  and  Jim,  holding  a  conference 
with  Captain  Williams,  in  the  little  cabin  of  the  Anne. 


rLORA    LTNDSAT. 


141 


CHAPTER   XXni. 


THR   BRIO   ANNK. 


!; 


The  brig  Anne  was  a  small,  old-fashioned,  black-hnlled  vessel, 
marvellously  resembling  a  collier  in  her  outward  appearance.  Sho 
was  a  one-masted  ship,  of  one  hundred  and  eighty  tons  burthen,  and 
promised  everything  but  aristocratic  accommodations  for  women 
and  children. 

The  cabin  was  a  low,  square  room,  meant  to  contain  only  the 
captain  and  his  mate;  whose  berths,  curtained  with  coarse,  red 
stuff,  occupied  the  opposite  walls.  The  table  in  the  centre  was  a 
fixture,  and  the  bench  that  ran^ound  three  sides  of  .this  crib  was 
a  fixture  also^  and  though  backed  by  the  wall,  was  quite  near 
enough  to  the  table  to  serve  the  double  purpose  of  chair  or  sofa.  A 
small  fireplace  occupied  the  front  of  the  cabin,  at  the  side  of  which 
a  door  opened  into  a  tiny  closet,  which  the  captain  dignified  with 
the  name  of  his  state-cabin.  The  compass  was  suspended  in  a  brass 
box  from  the  ceiling — other  articles  of  comfort  or  luxury  there  were 
none. 

The  captain,  a  stout,  broad-shouldered,  red-faced  man,  like  Cap- 
tain Ayrc,  of  the  Flora,  was  minus  an  eye ;  but  the  one  that  fortuno 
had  left  him  was  a  piercer.  He  was  a  rough,  blunt-looking  tar, 
some  forty-five  or  fifty  years  of  age ;  and  looked  about  as  senti- 
mental and  polite  as  a  tame  bear.  His  coarse,  weather-beaten  face 
had  an  honest,  frank  expression,  and  he  bade  his  guests  to  be  seated 
with  an  air  of  such  hearty  hospitality,  that  they  felt  quite  at  home 
in  his  narrow,  low  den. 

He  had  no  cabin-passengers,  though  a  great  many  in  the  steer- 
age ;  and  he  assured  Flora  that  she  could  have  the  very  best  accom- 
modations, as  he  would  resign  the  state-cabin  to  her  and  the  child. 
Mr.  Lyndsay  could  occupy  the  mate's  berth  in  the  cabin,  and  they 
could  not  fail  of  being  quite  snug  and  comfortable. 

The  state-cabin  was  just  big  enough  to  hold  the  captaiifs  chest 
of  drawers,  the  top  of  which,  boarded,  and  draped  with  the  same 
faded  red  stuff  that  decorated  the  outer  room,  formed  the  berth 
that  Flora  was  to  occupy.  Small  as  the  place  was,  it  was  scrupu- 
lously neat  and  clean,  and  possessed  for  Flora  one  great  charm — 
that  of  privacy.    She  could,  by  shutting  the  door  and  drawing  tho 


142 


FLORA   LYNDBAT. 


bolt,  at  any  time  enjoy  the  luxury  of  finding  herself,  though  in  a 
crowded  vessel,  alone. 

"  Mamma  Flora,  are  you  not  charmed  with  the  splendid  accom- 
modations of  your  fancy  ship  ?"  whispered  the  micchievous  Jim. 
"  There  is  not  room  for  a  flea  to  hop,  without  giving  him  the  cramp 
in  his  legs." 

•'  It  is  better  than  the  Flora,  so  hold  your  tongue,  you  wicked 
imp." 

But  Lyndsay  thought  otherwise.  The  Flora  was  larger,  and  was 
to  sail  a  fortnight  earlier.  He  demurred — his  wife  coaxed  and 
intreated;  but  he  only  went  so  far  as  to  tell  the  captain  to  keep 
the  berths  unoccupied  until  the  following  day,  and  he  would  inform 
him  of  his  final  determination. 

Just  as  they  were  rising  to  take  leave,  a  tall,  lanky  man  stuck 
his  long,  scraggy  neck  in  at  the  cabin-door,  and,  in  the  broadest 
Scotch  vernacular,  exclaimed — 

"  To  what  port  are  ye  bound,  man  ?" 

"  Quebec  and  Montreal." 

"  Wull  you  tak'  a  cabin-passenger  6n  reasonable  terms  ?" 

"  The  faro  is  fixed  by  the  owner  of  the  vessel,  P.  Gregg,  Bank- 
street,  Leith.    You  had  better  apply  to  him." 

"Weel,  I  dinna'  think  I'll  jest  go  noo'.  I  want  to  see  the 
Canada  lochs.  Anc  o'  these  days  I'll  tak'  passage  wi'  you,  ony- 
how." 

"  Perhaps  a  glass  of  brandy  and  water  would  serve  your  pur- 
pose at  this  time,"  said  the  captain,  with  a  knowing  smile. . 

"  I've  noo'  objections,  captain,"  said  the  long-visaged  traveller 
to  the  lochs  o'  Canada. 

"  That's  one  way  of  getting  a  glass  of  brandy  for  nothing,"  said 
the  captain,  as  he  accompanied  the  Lyndsays  to  the  deck.  "  That 
fellow  has  as  much  notion  of  going  to  Canada  as  I  have  of  taking 
a  voyage  to  the  moon.  But  he  knows  that  I  will  give  him  the 
brandy  to  get  rid  of  him." 

"  What  queer  people  there  are  in  the  world  1"  said  Flora,  as  she 
took  the-  proflFered  arm  of  her  husband.  "  But  what  do  you  think 
of  the  Anne  and  her  captain,  John  ?  He  is  a  rough  sailor,  but 
looks  like  an  honest  man.  And  tl\e  ship,  though  small,  is  clean, 
and  offers  better  accommodations  than  the  Flora,  where  we  should 
have  to  share  a  small  cabin  with  fourteen  vulgar  passengers." 

*•  My  dear  wife,  it  may  all  be  tru«  what  you  say  ;  but  I  have 


TLORA    LTND8AT. 


143 


made  up  my  mind  to  go  in  the  Flora.  She  sails  so  much  earlier, 
that  it  will  be  a  great  saving  of  time  and  expense." 

Flora's  countenance  fell,  and  the  tears  actually  camo  into  her 
eyes  ;  but  she  only  muttered  to  herself — 

"  Oh,  I  have  such  a  horror  of  going  in  that  ship  1" 

At  the  turning  of  the  street,  they  met  Mr.  Peterson,  the  owner  of 
the  Flora,  to  whom  Lyndsay  had  spoken  about  taking  a  passage 
in  her  the  day  >"fore. 

"  Well,  Mr.  Lyndsay,"  he  said,  shaking  hands  in  a  friendly  man- 
ner with  him ;  "4mve  you  concluded  to  take  passage  in  my  vessel?" 

"Not  quite,"  returned  li) jdsay,  laughing.  "  My  wife  has  such 
an  unconquerable  aversion  to  going  with  your  captain  and  his  sons, 
on  account  of  the  reprobate  language  they  used  the  other  day  in 
her  hearing,  that  she  has  actually  found  up  another  vessel  in  which 
she  wishes  me  to  sail." 

"  Oh,  the  Anne,  Captain  Williams,"  said  Peterson,  with  a  con- 
temptuous smile, — "  the  last  and  most  insignificant  vessel  that 
leaves  our  port.  The  owner,  P.  Gregg,  is  not  a  liberal  person  to 
deal  with ;  the  captain  is  a  good  seaman,  but  a  stubborn  brute, — 
quite  as  unfit  for  the  society  of  ladies  as  Captain  Ayre.  To  tell 
you  the  truth,  we  have  little  choice  in  these  matters.  It  is  not  the 
manners  of  the  men  we  employ  we  generally  look  to,  but  to  their 
nautical  skill.  There  is,  however,  one  great  objection  to  your  tak- 
ing passage  in  the  Anne,  that  I  think  it  right  you  should  know. 
She  has  a  most  objectionable  freight." 

"  In  yyhat  respect  ?" 

**  She  is  loaded  with  brandy  and  gunpowder." 

"By  no  means  a  pleasant  cargo,"  said  Lindsay,  "What  do 
you  say  to  that,  Flora?"  turning  to  his  wife. 

"  I  will  tell  you  to-morrow  :  do  wait  until  then." 

In  order  to  pacify  her  evident  uneasiness,  Lyndsay  promised  to 
postpone  his  decision. 

When  they  reached  their  lodgings,  they  found  a  short,  round- 
faced,  rosy,  good-natured  looking  individual,  waiting  >  receive 
them,  who  introduced  himself  as  Mr.  Gregg,  the  owner  of  the  Anne. 
He  had  learned  from  Captain  Williams,  that  they  had  been  inspect- 
ing the  capabilities  of  his  vessel. 

"  She  was  a  small  ship,"  he  said,  "  but  a  safe  one;  the  captain, 
a  steady,  experienced  seaman  ;  and  if  Mr.  Lyndsay  engaged  a  pa»- 


i, 


m 


i 


144 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


sage  for  himself  and  family,  he  would  grant  the  most  liberal 
terras. " 

Lyndsay  mentioned  his  objections  to  the  freight. 

"Who  told  you  that?"  asked  the  little  owndr,  somewhat  ex- 
cited." 

"  Mr.  Peterson.    "We  parted  from  him  only  a  few  minutes  ago." 

"  The  scoundrel  1  the  mean,  dirty  scoundrel  I"  said  Gregg,  stump- 
ing on  the  floor.  "  Why,  Sir,  Mr.  Lyndsay,  his  own  shi  -riug 
the  same  freight.    What  did  he  say  about  that?" 

"  He  told  me  yesterday,  she  took  out  a  general  «argo " 

"  Of  brandy  and  gunpowder.  Both  vessels  are  employed  by  the 
same  house,  and  take  out  the  same  freight.  You  must,  however, 
please  yourself,  Mr.  Lyndsay.  The  Flora  has  a  great  number  of 
passengers  of  the  lowest  cast — is  old  and  crank ! — with  the  mast 
vicious,  morose  captain  that  sails  from  this  port.  I  know  him  only 
too  well.  He  made  two  voyages  for  me  ;  and  the  letters  I  received, 
complaining  of  his  brutal  conduct  to  some  of  his  passcngei-s,  I  can 
show  you  at  my  office." 

"  You  have  said  enough,  Mr.  Gregg,  to  deter  me  from  takint^  my 
wife  and  child  in  the  Flora.  The  deceitful  conduct  of  Mr.  i'eter- 
son  alone  would  have  determined  me  not  to  contract  with  b 

And  now,  what  will  you  take  us  for  1    Our  party  cousis  my 

wife  and  infant,  a  lad  of  thirteen  years  who  accompanies  us,  a  ser- 
vant girl,  and  myself." 

Mr.  Gregg  considered  for  some  minutes. 

"  Well,"  he  said,  "  there  is  a  large  party  of  you ;  but -I  will  give 
your  wife,  child,  and  self,  a  cabin  passage,  finding  you  in  the  same 
fare  af  . o  captain,  and  the  lad  and  servant  a  second  cabin  passage, 
save  the  privilege  of  the  cabin  table,  for  thirty  pounds.  Is  that  too 
much?" 

•*  It  is  very  liberal  indeed.    Peterson  asked  fifty." 

*ilt  is  reasonable  ;  but  as  you  have  to  wait  a  fortnight  longer  in 
order  to  sail  with  me,  I  have  taken  that  into  account.  Is  it  a  bar- 
gain?" 

They  struck  hands  ;  and  Mr.  Gregg,  after  drawing  up  an  agree- 
ment, which  Lyndsay  signed,  turned  to  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  and  press- 
ingly  invited  the  whole  party  to  spend  the  following  afternoon  with 
them  in  a  friendly  way. 

"  My  wife  is  a  homely  little  body,"  he  said ;  **  but  she  will  do 


her 
heal 
P 
tha 
she 

wa; 
ball 

to 
wo 


FLOHA    LYNDSAY. 


145 


liberal 


pat  ex- 
ftgo." 


•y  tho 
over, 
er  of 

moat 
I  only 
L'ived, 

ca/i 

my 


her  best  to  make  you  comfortable,  an<l  will  givo  yoa,  at  any  rate,  a 
hoarty  Scotch  welcome," 

Flora  was  so  overjoyed  at  the  prosiHict  of  goiiig  by  the  Anne, 
that  she  shook  the  little  fut  mau  heartily  by  the  hand,  and  told  him 
she  would  come  with  the  greatest  pU^usure. 

"  Now,  Flora,  arc  you  not  delighted  in  having  it  your  own 
way?"  asked  I^yudsay,  after  Mr.  Gregg  left  them,  taking  both  her 
hands.  "  But  let  rae  assure  you,  my  dear  wife,  you  owe  it  entirely 
to  the  mean  conduct  of  Mr.  Peterson.  I  tell  you  frankly,  that  I 
would  not  have  yielded  my  better  judgment  to  a  mere  prejudice, 
even  to  please  you," 

"  You  are  determined,  Joht ,  tliat  I  shall  never  fulfil  the  gipsy's 
prophesy." 

"  What  was  that  ?" 

"  Did  I  never  tell  you  that  story,  nor  the  girls  either?  for  it  was 
a  standing  joke  against  me  at  home  for  years.  Oh,  you  must  have 
it,  then.  But  be  generous;  and  don't  turn  it  as  a  weapon  against 
me : 

"  Some  years  ago,  a  gipsy  woman  came  to  our  kitchen-door,  and 
asked  to  see  the  young  ladies  of  the  hon  .  Of  course,  we  all  ran 
out  to  look  at  the  sybil,  and  hear  her  errand,  which  was  nothing 
more  nor  less  than  to  tell  our  fortunes.  Partly  out  of  curiosity, 
partly  out  of  fun,  we  determine<l  to  have  a  peep  into  futurity,  and 
see  what  the  coming  years  had  in  store  for  us.  We  did  not  believe 
in  gipsy  craft.  We  well  knew  tliat,  liko  our  own,  the  woman's 
powers  were  limited  ;  that  it  was  all  guess-work  ;  that  her  cunning 
rested  in  a  shrewd  knowledge  of  character — of  certain  likings  spring- 
ing out  of  contrasts,  which  led  her  to  match  the  tall  with  the  short, 
the  fair  with  the  dark,  the  mild  with  the  impetuous,  the  sensitive 
and  timid  with  the  bold  and  adventurous.  On  these  seeming  con- 
trarieties the  whole  art  of  fortune-telling,  as  far  as  my  experience 
goes,  appears  based. 

"  Well,  she  gave  husbands  to  us  all — dark,  fair,  middle-complex- 
ioned,  short  and  tall,  amiable,  passionate,  or  reserved — just  the 
opposite  of  our  own  complexions  or  temperament,  such  as  she 
judged  them  to  be  ;  and  she  showed  a  great  deal  of  talent  and  keen 
perception  of  character  in  the  choice  of  our  mates. 

"  In  my  case,  however,  she  proved  herself  to  be  no  prophet.  I 
was  to  marry  a  sea-faring  gentleman — a  tall,  black-eyed,  passionate 
man — with  whom  I  was  to  travel  to  foreign  parts,  and  die  in  a  for- 

7 


146 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


. 

<\ 

n 

Hpi 

^H^m  L 

■I 

;  ■ 

u 


eign  land.  I  was  to  have  no  children ;  and  he  was  to  be  very 
jealous  of  me.  '  And  yet,  for  all  that,'  quoth  the  gipsy,  drawing 
close  up  to  me,  and  whispering  in  my  ear,  but  not  so  low  but  that 
all  the  rest  heard  her  concluding  speech,  '  you  shall  wear  the 
breeches." 

"  She  did  not  bargain  that  you  were  to  marry  a  Scotchman/' 
said  Lyndsay,  laughing. 

"  Nor  did  she  know,  with  all  her  pretended  art,  that  my  husband 
was  to  be  a  soldier,  fair-haired,  and  bliRMjyed,  and  that  this  little 
lass  would  give  a  direct  contradiction  to  her  prophesy,"  and  Flora 
kissed  fondly  Josey"s  soft  cheek.  .  "  *V(  I,  I  was  so  tormented  about 
that  last  clause  in  my  fortune,  that  I  determined  it  should  ncvey 
come  to  pass  ;  that  whatever  portion  of  my  husband's  dress  I  cov- 
eted, I  would  scrupulously  avoid  even  the  insertion  of  a  toe  into  his 
nether  garments." 

"  You  forget.  Flora,  your  trip  to  the  mountain  without  my  cott* 
sent  ?"  whispered  Lyndsay,  mischievously. 

Flora  colored,  stanmiered,  and  at  last  broke  into  a  hearty  laugh 
— "  I  was  too  great  a  coward,  John,  to  wear  them  with  becoming 
dignity.  If  that  was  wearing  the-  breeches,  I  an  sure  I  disgraced 
them  with  ray  worse  than  womanish  fears.    I  will  never  put  them 


on  agam. 


"  My  dear  wife,  I'll  take  good  care  you  shan't.  Wlien  a  Scotch- 
man has  any  breeks  to  wear,  he  likes  to  keep  them  all  to  himself" 

"  Ah !  we  well  know  what  a  jealous,  moiwpolising  sot  you  are. 
Ijet  any  one  attempt  to  interfere  with  your  rights,  and,  like  your 
sturdy  national  emblem,  you  are  armed  to  the  teeth,"  said  Flora, 
as  she  ran  off  to  cder  tea. 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

A  VISIT   TO  THL   SHIP   OWNERS. 

Early  in  the  afternoon  of  the  following  day,  our  family  party 
set  off  to  pay  their  promised  visit.  The  weather  was  deliglitful, 
and  Flora  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  high  spirits,  as  they  turned  from 
the  narrow  streets  of  Leith  into  a  beautiful  lane,  bounded  oa  each 
Bide  by  hawthorn  hedges,  redolent  with  the  perfume  of  the  sweet- 
briar  and  honeysuckle.  The  breath  of  new-mown  hay  floated  on 
the  ai'',  and  the  lilac  and  laburnum,  in  full  blossom,  waved  their 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


ut 


graceful  boughs  above  the  white  palings  that  surrounded  many  a 
pleasant  country  retreat,  in  which  the  tired  citizen,  after  the  toils 
of  the  day  in  the  busy  marts  of  commerce,  returned  to  enjoy  a  com- 
fortable dish  of  tea  with  his  family. 

The  verse  of  an  old,  old  song,  now  quite  out  of  date,  that  Flora 
had  been  taught  to  repeat  when  a  child,  came  flush  to  her  memory. 
It  was  a  perfect  illustration  of  the  rural  scene  : 

"It  was  within  a  mile  of  Edinburgh  town, 
And  a  pleasant  time  o'  the  year, 
Sweet  lilacs  bloomed,  and  the  hay  was  down, 
And  each  shepherd  wooed  his  dear." 

Why  do  old  songs  ever  go  out  of  fashion  ?  What  poetry  charms 
us  so  much  as  these  simple  lyrics,  which  spring  spontaneously  from 
the  heart  ?  They  are  loved  and  remembered  when  the  most  sublime 
eflForts  of  human  genius  are  forgotten,  and  are  always  associated 
with  the  best  and  truest  feeling-s  of  our  nature.  Those  lines  of  the 
old  song  carried  Flora  back  to  the  days  of  her  childhood — the  days 
when,  wild  with  delight,  she  had  revelled  among  the  new-mown 
hay  in  the  fair  fields  that  spread  around  the  dear  old  homestead 
she  was  to  see  no  more  ; — to  the  days  when  the  lilac  and  laburnum 
were  Nature's  own  jewels,  more  prized  by  her  than  the  gems  in  a 
monarch's  crown,  and  life  one  continued  dream  of  fruits  and  flowers, 
a  paradise  of  joy,  from  which  she  never  wished  to  rove  ; — to  the 
days  when  she  left  shreds  of  her  white  frocks  on  every  brier  bush, 
while  sporting  with  the  elves  in  the  green  wood, — when  she  cried 
at  her  mother's  knee  for  a  sackcloth  gown  that  could  not  be  torn 
by  the  rude  bushes.  This  rending  of  fine  garments  was  one  of  the 
only  sorrows  of  Flora's  young  life.  It  had  made  her  a  democrat 
from  her  cradle. 

A  walk  of  half-a-mile  brought  them  to  the  suburban  retreat  of 
the  worthy  Mr.  Gregg,  and  he  was  at  the  green  garden-gate  to 
receive  his  guests,  his  honest,  saucy  face,  radiant  with  an  honest 
welcome. 

"  I  was  fearful  ye  wud  not  keep  your  promise,"  he  said  :  "  my 
youngstei-s  ha'  been  on  the  look-out  for  you  this  hour." 

Here  he  pushed  the  giggling  youngsters  forward,  in  the  shape  of 
two  bouncing,  rosy-faced  school-girls,  who  were  playing  at  bo-peep 
behind  papa's  broad  blue  back,  and  whose  red  cheeks  grew  crim- 
son with  blushes  as  he  presented  them  to  his  guests. 

James  Hawke  seemed  to  think  the  merry  girls,  who  were  of  his 


148 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


own  age,  well  worth  looking  at,  if  you  might  judge  by  the  roguish 
sparkling  of  his  fine  black  eyes,  as  he  bounded  off  with  them  to  be 
introduced  to  the  strawberry-beds,  and  all  the  other  attractions  of 
the  worthy  citizen's  garden. 

It  was  a  large,  old-fashioned  house,  that  had  seen  better  days, 
and  stood  on  a  steep,  sloping  hill,  that  commanded  a  beautiful 
view  of  Edinburgh,  the  grand  old  mountain  looming  in  the  dis- 
tance, and  the  bright  Forth,  with  all  its  wealth  of  white  sails, 
glittering  in  the  rays  of  the  declining  sun. 

"  What  a  delightful  situation  I"  exclaimed  Flora,  as  her  eye 
ranged  over  the  beautiful  scene. 

"  Aye,  'tis  a  bonnie  place,"  said  Mr.  Gregg,  greatly  exalted  in 
his  own  eyes,  aa  master  of  the  premises  ; — "  an'  very  healthy  for 
the  bairns.  I  often  walked  past  this  old  house  when  I  was  but  a 
prentice  lad  in  the  High  street,  o'  Sunday  afternoons,  and  used  to 
peep  through  the  pales,  and  admire  the  old  trees,  an'  fruits,  an' 
flowers ;  an'  I  thought  if  I  had  sic  a  braw  place  of  my  ain,  I 
should  think  mysel  richer  thar  a  crow'ed  king.  I  was  a  puir 
callant  in  those  days.  It  was  only  a  dream,  a  fairy  dream ;  yet 
here  I  am,  master  of  the  auld  house  and  the  pretty  gardens. 
Industry  and  prudence — industry  and  prudence,  madam,  my  dear, 
has  done  it  all,  and  converted  my  air-built  castle  into  substantial 
brick  and  stane." 

Flora  admired  the  old  man's  honest  pride.  She  had  thought  him 
coarse  and  vulgar,  while  in  reality  he  was  only  what  the  Canadians 
term  homely ;  for  his  heart  was  brimful  of  kindly  affections  and 
good  feeling.  There  was  not  a  particle  of  pretence  aboia  him — 
of  forced  growth  or  refined  cultivation  :  a  genuine  product  of  tJio 
soil,  a  respectable  man  in  every  sense  of  the  word.  Proud  of  his 
country  and  his  king,  and  doubly  proud  of  the  wealth  he  had  ac- 
quired by  honest  industry.  A  little  vain,  and  pompous,  perhaps, 
but  most  self-made  men  are  so  ;  they  are  apt  to  overrate  the  talents 
that  have  lifted  them  out  of  obscurity,  and  to  fancy  that  the  world 
estimates  their  worth  and  importance  by  the  same  standard  as  they 
do  themselves. 

In  the  house,  they  were  introduced  to  Mrs.  Gregg,  who  was  just 
Buch  a  person  as  her  husband  had  described ;  a  cheerful,  middle- 
aged  woman,  very  short,  very  stout,  and  very  hospitable.  Early 
as  it  was,  the  tea-table  was  loaded  with  good  cheer  ;  and  Flora,  for 
the  first  time  in  her  life,  saw  preserves  brought  for  tea ;  largo 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


149 


strawberries  preserved  whole,  and  that  pet  sweatmeat  of  the  Scotch, 
oranj^e  marmalade,  which  looked  tempting  enough,  in  handsome 
dishes  of  cut  glass,  flanked  by  delicious  homemade  bread  and  but- 
ter, cream,  cheese,  and  sweet  curds. 

*'  A  tall,  fine-looking  woman,  very  gaily  dressed,  and  not  half  so 
genteel  in  appearance  as  the  mistress  of  the  house,  was  presented  to 
the  Lyndsays  as  Mrs.  M'Nish,  a  married  daughter.  Her  husband 
was  a  loud-voiced,  large-whiskered  consequential-looking  young 
man,  whose  good  humor  and  admiration  of  himself,  his  wife,  and  his 
father  and  mother-in-law,  and  the  big  house,  appeared  inexhaustible. 

His  young  wife  seemed  to  look  npon  him  as  something  superhu- 
man ;  and  to  every  remark  she  made,  she  appealed  to.  Wullie,  as 
she  called  him,  for  his  verdict  of  approval. 

Little  Josey,  who  made  one  of  the  party,  was  soon  on  the  most 
intimate  terms  with  the  family  group.  The  young  married  woman, 
after  bestowing  upon  her  many  kisses,  passed  her  over  to  her  hus- 
band, telling  him,  with  a  little  laugh,  "that  she  wondered  if  he 
would  make  a  good  nurse :  it  was  time  for  him  commence  prac- 
tising." Then  she  blushed,  and  giggled,  and  the  old  man  chuckled 
and  rubbed  his  knees,  and  the  mother  looked  up  -^'ith  a  quiet  smile 
as  the  jolly  bridegroom  burst  into  a  loud  laugh.  "Ay,  Jean,  my 
woman,  it's  time  enough  to  think  of  troubles  when  they  come." 
And  then  he  tossed  Miss  Josey  up  to  the  ceiling  with  such  Vig- 
orous jerks,  that  Flora  watched  his  gymnastics  in  nervous  fear  lest 
the  child  should  fall  out  of  his  huge  grasp  and  break  her  neck. 

Not  so  Josey ;  she  never  was  better  pleased  in  her  life ;  she 
crowed  and  screamed  with  delight,  and  rewarded  her  Scotch  nurse, 
by  tangling  her  tiny,  white  fingers  in  his  bushy  red  whiskers,  and 
pulling  his  long  nose. 

"  Haut  you're  a  spcreted  lass.  Is  that  the  way  you  mean  to 
lead  the  men?"  he  said,  as  he  bounced  her  down  into  his  wife's  lap, 
and  told  her  "  that  it  wm  her  turn  to  mak'  a  trial  o'  that  kind  o' 
wark  an'  see  how  it  wud  fit ;  he  was  verra'  sure  he  sud  sune  be 
tired  o't."  And  this  speech  was  received  with  another  little  giggle, 
followed  by  a  loud  laugh.  But  Josey  was  by  no  means  tired  of  her 
game  of  romps  ;  and  she  crowed  and  held  out  her  arms  to  tho 
M'Nish,  to  induce  him  to  take  her  again ;  and  when  he  turned  u 
deaf  ear  to  the  infant's  petition,  she  fairly  began  to  cry." 

♦*  Wully,  Wully,  dinna  let  the  bairu  greet  in  that  kind  o'  faahun," 


■ 


(■;' 


n 


i^: 


ii 


150 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


cried  the  wife ;  "  ye  might  be  proud  o'  having  such  a  wee  arngel  to 
nurse." 

"  Aye,  80  I  shall  be,  ane  o'  these  days,"  said  the  huge  man,  taking 
the  babe  from  her  arms ;  and  Miss  Josey  got  another  dance,  which 
was  so  vigorously  kept  up  that  she  fairly  dropped  oflf  to  sleep,  which 
circumstance  was  doubtless  a  joyful  one  to  all  parties. 

The  old  gentleman  was  impatient  to  discuss  the  important  busi- 
ness of  tea-drinking ;  after  which  he  proposed  to  have  the  pleasure 
of  showing  his  visitors  the  garden,  and  some  other  grand  sight  of 
which  he  would  not  speak  now,  but  which  he  was  certain  must  be 
appreciated  by  every  person  who  possessed  a  half-penny  worth  of 
taste." 

Flora  sat  down  to  the  tabic,  wondering  what  it  could  be. 

Big  WuUie  stepped  to  the  hall  door,  and  summoned  the  children 
to  the  evening  meal  with  a  loud  hallo ;  which  was  answered  from 
among  the  trees  by  a  jovial  shout,  and  in  a  few  minutes  the  young 
folks  poured  into  the  room,  some  of  them  looking  rather  dull,  from 
their  protracted  visit  to  the  strawberry-beds." 

The  fresh  air  and  exercise  had  made  Mrs.  Lyndsay  unusually 
hungry.  She  ate  heartily  and  enjoyed  her  meal,  but  this  did  not 
satisfy  the  overflowing  hospitality  of  her  entertainers,  who  pressed 
atid  worried  her  in  every  possible  manner  to  take  more,  till  she  felt 
very  much  inclined  to  answer  with  the  poor  country  girl,  "  Dear 
knows,  I  con't  eat  another  bit ;"  or  with  the  Irish  settler's  wife,  in 
the  backwoods  of  Canada,  who,  on  being  urged  to  take  more, 
\  ashed  away  her  plate,  exclaiming,  impatiently,  "  No,  thank  you, 
I'm  satisfied !" 

But  there  was  no  way  of  satisfying  the  entreaties  of  the  Greggs, 
but  by  making  a  retreat  from  the  table,  and  even  then  they  per- 
sisted in  declaring  their  guests  had  been  starved,  and  would  not  do 
the  least  justice  to  their  good  cheer. 

This  mistaken  kindness  brought  to  Flora's  mind  a  story  she  had 
heard  Lyndsay  tell,  of  a  merchant  of  Edinburgh  who  went  to  the 
north  of  Scotland  to  visit  some  country  folk  who  were  his  near 
relations.  The  good  people  were  outrageously  glad  to  see  him, 
and  literally  killed  the  fatted  calf,  and  concocted  all  sorts  of 
country  dainties  in  order  to  celebrate  the  advent  of  their  distin 
guished  guest,  who,  it  seems  in  this  case,  was  in  less  danger  of 
starving  than  of  being  stuffed  to  death. 

Uavmg  partaken  at  dinner  of  all,  and  perhaps  of  rather  more 


FLORA    LY>"D3AY. 


151 


tliati  he  required,  be  did  his  best  to  resist  their  further  importuni- 
ties for  him  to  eat  more,  but  finding  his  refusing  to  do  so  increased 
their  anxiety  to  force  upon  him  the  good  things  they  had  to  be- 
Btow,  he  spread  a  large  silk  handkerchief  upon  his  knees,  under 
cover  of  the  table-cloth,  into  which  ho  contrived  dexterously  to 
empty  the  coHteats  of  his  plate,  whenever  the  eye  of  his  watchful 
hostess  was  ofif  him.  At  last,  even  her  importunities  for  him  to 
continue  the  feast  grew  fainter,  and  she  wound  up  by  exclaiming, 
"  You  ha'  made  a  verra  puir  dinner,  Sir  j  ye  ha' just  eaten  nao- 
thing  ava'." 

At  this  speech,  he,  hardly  able  to  keed  his  gravity,  placed  his 
handkerchief  upon  the  table,  and  displayed  its  contents  of  fish, 
llesh,  fowl,  and  confectionaries,  to  his  astonished  entertainers, 
exclaiming,  as  he  did  so,  "  My  dear  Madam,  think  what  would 
have  become  of  me,  had  I  eaten  all  this!" 

It  was  no  feast  of  reason,  at  the  honest  Greggs,"  the  entertain- 
ment was  of  the  most  animal  kind,  and  Flora  felt  relieved  when  it 
was  ovei*,  Jind  the  whole  party  issued  once  more  into  the  pure  balmy 
air. 

She  was  just  hastenmg  to  a  parterre,  gay  with  roses,  to  rifle 
some  of  its  sweets,  when  the  old  gentleman  came  panting  hard  upon 
her  track.  "  Ye  must  come  an'  see  my  rurce  show,  before  the  sun 
gangs  douR,"  he  cried  ;  and  Floi'a  turned  and  followed  him  back 
into  the  house.     In  the  hall  the  whole  family  party  were  collected. 

"  I'll  gang  first,  latber,  ajjd  open  the  door,"  cried  a  merry  boy  of 
fourteen;  and  beckoning  to  Jim,  they  both  clattered  after  each 
other  up  the  old-fashioned  stairs. 

Old  houses  in  Edinburgh  and  its  vicinity  are  so  high,  one  would 
think  the  people  in  those  days  wished  to  build  among  the  stars ; 
at  Iccst  to  emidate  the  far-famed  wonders  of  that  language-con- 
founding tower,  that  caused  the  first  emigration,  by  scattering  the 
people  over  the  face  of  tlie  earth. 

They  went  up,  and  up,  and  up ;  there  seemed  no  end  to  the 
broad,  short  steps.  On  the  last  flight,  which  led  to  the  roof,  the 
fitaircase  had  so  greatly  contracted  its  proportions,  that  fat  Mr. 
<iregg  could  scarcely  force  himself  up  it,  and  he  so  completely 
obscured  the  light  that  i>eered  down  upon  them  from  a  small  trap- 
door which  opened  upon  the  leads,  that  Flora,  who  followed  him, 
found  herself  in  a  dim  twilight,  expecting  every  moment  the  pant- 


152 


FLORA    LYNDSi^Y. 


1 

1 


II 


ill 


t 


ing  mountain  tliat  had  conr.e  between  her  and  the  sky,  would  lose 
the  centre  of  gravity,  and  suffocate  her  iu  its  fall. 

No  such  tragic  misfortune  occurred.  The  old  gentlenian  forced 
himself,  after  much  squec?Jng  and  puffing  off  steam,  through  the 
narrow  aperture,  and  very  gallantly  lent  a  hand  to  assist  Flora  on 
to  the  leads,  though  the  perspiration  was  streaming  down  his  face, 
ilow  almost  purple  with  the  exertions  he  had  used. 

"  This  is  a  strait  gate,  on  a  narrow  way,"  he  cried.  "  But  tell 
me,  if  it  does  na'  gie  ye  a  glimpse  o'  heaven  ?" 

The  old  man  was  right.  Flora  stood  perfectly  entranced  with 
the  glorious  spectacle  that  burst  upon  h«r  sight,  the  moment  she 
stepped  upon  the  roof  of  that  old  house.  Edinburgh,  and  the  world 
of  beauty  that  lies  around  it,  lay  at  her  feet,  bathed  in  the  goldea 
light  of  a  gorgeous  June  sunset.  To  those  who  have  beheld  that 
astonishing  panorama,  all  description  must  prove  abortive.  It  is  a 
sight  to  be  daguerreotyped  upon  the  heart.  It  is  impossible  for 
words  to  give  a  picture  of  the  scene.  The  cheeks  pale,  the 
eyes  moisten,  slowly  and  solemnly  the  soul  mounts  upwards 
towards  the  Creator  of  this  wondrous  vision  of  power  and  beauty, 
till  humbled  and  abashed  by  a  sense  of  its  own  utter  insignificance 
in  a  presence  so  august  and  iiicomprehci^sible,  it  siulcs  back  to 
earth  in  silent  self-annihilation,  to  wonder  and  adore. 

"  Weel,  was  it  not  worth  toiling  up  yon  weary  stairs,  to  get  sic 
a  glimpse  as  that,  of  the  bruve  auld  town  1"  said  honest  P. 
Gregg,  wiping  his  bald  head  with  his  handkerchief.  "  I'm  jest 
thinkin'  I  must  enlarge  the  stair,  or  diminish  myself,  before  I  can 
venture  through  that  narrow  pass  again.  An',  my  dear  leddy,  I  can 
do  neither  the  one  nor  the  other.  So  this  mayhap  may  be  my  last 
glint  o'  the  bonnie  auld  place." 

Then  ho  went  on,  after  this  quaint  fashion,  to  point  out  to  Mis- 
tress Lyudsay  all  the  celelx'atcd  si)ot3  in  the  noighboiiiood,  which 
every  Scot  knows  by  heart ;  and  Flora  was  so  much  amused  and 
interested  by  his  naiTatiorw,  that  she  was  soriy  when  the  dceiiening 
shades  of  approaching  night  warned  the  old  man  that  it  rcquii-ed 
daylight  to  enable  him  to  descend  the  narrow;  stair,  and  they 
reluctantly  left  the  scene. 


rLORA    LYNDSAY. 


153 


CHAPTER   XXV. 

.  floba's  dixner. 

Lyndsay  had  some  literary  friends  in  Edinburgh,  whose  kindly 
intercourse  greatly  enhanced  the  pleasure  of  a  month's  residence 
near  the  metropolis  of  Scotland.    The  foremost  among  these  was 

M ,  the  poet,  who,  like  Lyndsay,  was  a  native  of  the  Orkney 

Islands.  Having  been  entertained  at  the  house  of  this  gentleman, 
he  naturally  wished  to  return  his  courtesy. 

"  Flora,"  he  said,  addressing  his  wife,  the  day  after  their  visit  to 
the  Greggs,  "  do  you  think  you  could  manage  a  dinner  for  a  few 
friends  ?" 

Flora  dropped  her  work,  and  opened  her  eyes  in  blank  dismay 
at  the  very  idea  of  such  a  thing. 

"  What,  in  these  poor  lodgings  ?  and  Mra.  Waddel  such  an 
impracticable,  helpless  old  body  ?  My  dear  John,  it  is  impos- 
sible!" 

Now,  Lyndsay  had  set  his  heart  upon  the  dinner,  which  he 
thought  not  only  very  possible,  but  oould  see  no  difficulty  about  it. 
;Men  never  look  behind  the  scenes,  or  consider  the  minor  details  of 
such  things ;  and  on  these  trifling  items,  in  their  eyes,  the  real  suc- 
cess or  failure  of  most  domestic  arrangements  depend.  But  Flora 
had  been  behind  the  scenes,  and  knew  all  about  it,  to  her  cost,  for 
it  was  with  the  greatest  difficulty  she  could  prevail  upon  Mrs. 
Waddel  to  cook  his  plain  steak  or  pudding  fit  to  send  to  table. 
She  had  been  forced,  unknown  to  him,  to  superintend  the  cooking 
of  his  daily  meals,  and  make  sauces  or  gravies,  which  Mrs.  W. 
declared  she  could  "  nai  fash  hersel  about  ;  that  sic  dainties  were 
a'  verra  weel,  but  the  meat  ate  jist  as  sweet  without  them."  The 
idea  of  such  a  tardy  mistress  of  the  kitchen  cooking  a  dinner  for 
company,  appeared  perfectly  ridiculous  to  Flora,  who  knew  that 
any  attempt  of  the  ki^  must  cud  in  mortification  and  disap- 
pointment. 

"Flora,"  said  Lyndsay,  quite  seriously,  "I  am  certain  that 
you  could  manage  it  quite  well,  if  you  would  only  make  the 
trial." 

"  It  is  from  no  unwillingness  on  my  part  that  I  object  to  your 
entertainiog  your  friends ;  I  should  like  to  do  so  on  my  ova 

1* 


154 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


1i 


account,  as  well  as  yours,  for  they  have  been  very  kind  to  me,  but 
I  doubt  the  means  of  being  able  to  do  so.  If  it  will  satisfy  you, 
J  will  cook  the  dinner  myself,  though  I  must  confess  I  am  but  a 
poor  hand  at  it.  But  this  is  not  the  chief  difficulty.  There  is 
but  one  cooking-range  in  the  house,  and  that  one  small  and  incon- 
venient, and  I  fear  their  cooking  utensils  are  limited  to  the 
dimensions  of  their  fire,  as  Mrs.  Waddel  always  put  oflF  cooking  our 
dinner  until  she  had  despatched  her  own." 

"  There  is  a  large  fire-place  in  our  bed-chamber,  Flora,"  said 
Lyndsay,  unwilling  to  beat  a  retreat :  "  you  could  boil  a  couple  of 
pots  there." 

"  True,"  replied  Flora,  musingly  ;  "  I  did  not  think  of  that.  It 
would  do  that  damp,  cold  room  good  to  get  a  fire  lighted  in  it." 

Seeing  her  husband  determined  upon  the  dinner,  she  began  to 
question  him  as  to  the  items  of  the  entertainment. 

"Oh,  nothing  particular  dear.    M knows  that  we  are  in 

lodgings,  and  can't  manage  as  well  as  if  we  were  in  a  house  of  our 
own.  A  nice  cut  of  fresh  salmon,  which  is  always  to  be  had  in  the 
fish-market,  a  small  roast  of  beef,  or  leg  of  mutton,  with  vegetables 
and  a  pudding,  will  do  ;  and,  above  all  things,  Flora,  don't  make 
a  fuss.  If  everything  does  not  do  exactly  to  please  you,  don't  look 
vexed  and  annoyed,  or  it  will  only  make  matters  worse.  I  am  going 

to  call  upon  M this  morning,  and  I  will  ask  him  and  his  friend 

P to  step  over  and  dine  with  us  at  six  o'clock." 

"  What  shall  we  do  for  wine  and  spirits?" 

"  I  will  order  these  as  I  go  along.  So  mind,  dear,  and  have  every- 
thing as  snug  and  comfortable  as  you  can." 

Lyndsay  was  hardly  gone  before  Flora  put  on  her  bonnet,  and 
calling  to  Hannah  to  follow  with  the  basket,  set  ofi"  for  the  fish- 
market. 

In  spite  of  the  anxiety  she  felt  as  to  the  success  of  the  dinner, 
Flora  could  not  help  pausing  to  admire  the  spacious  fish-market, 
with  its  cool  stone  pavement,  and  slabs  of  white  marble,  on  which 
lay  piled,  in  magnificent  profusion,  the  most  beautiful  specimens  of 
the  finny  rangers  of  the  deep.  It  was  a  hffll  of  wonders  to  her,  filled 
with  marine  curiosities,  and  she  could  have  spent  hours  in  contem- 
plating the  picturesque  groups  it  presented. 

There  lay  the  salmon  in  its  delicate  coat  of  blue  and  silver  ;  the 
mullet,  in  pink  and  gold ;  the  mackerel,  with  its  blending  of  all 
hues — gorgoous  as  the  tail  of  the  peacock,  aud  defying  the  art  of 


FLORA    LTNDSAY, 


155 


Che  painter  to  transfer  them  to  his  canvas  :  the  plaice,  with  its 
olive  green  coat,  spotted  with  vivid  orange,  which  must  flash  like 
sparks  of  flame  glittering  in  the  depths  of  the  dark  waters ;  the 
cod,  the  siller  haddies,  all  freckled  with  brown,  and  silver  and  gold  ; 
tlio  snake-like  eel,  stretching  its  slimy  length  along  the  cool  pavement, 
among  moving  heaps  of  tawny  crabs — those  spiders  of  the  deep, 
that  seemed  to  emulate  the  scorpion  lobsters  near  them  in  repulsive 
ugliness. 

But  what  most  enchanted  Flora,  was  the  antique  costume  of  the 
New  Haven  fish  women,  as  seated  upon  their  upturned  baskets, 
they  called  the  attention  of  the  visitor  to  their  various  stores  of  fish. 

Flora  was  never  tired  of  looking  at  these  sea  maids nnd  matrons. 
Their  primitive  appearance,  and  quaint,  old-fashioned  dress,  took 
her  fancy  amazingly — with  their  petticoats  so  short,  their  blue 
stockings  and  buckled  shoes,  their  neat,  striped  linen  jackets,  and 
queer  little  caps,  just  covering  the  top  of  their  head,  and  coming 
down  in  long,  straight  mobs  over  their  ears — their  honest  broad 
fcautures,  and  pleasant  faces,  that  had  been  fair  before  the  sun 
and  the  sea  air  tanned  them  to  that  warm,  deep  brown — their 
round,  red  arms  and  handsome  feet  and  legs,  displayed  with  a  free- 
dom and  ease  which  custom  had  robbed  of  all  indecency  and  ren- 
dered natural  and  proper. 

Flora  wished  that  she  had  been  an  artist,  to  copy  some  of  the  fine 
forms  she  saw  among  these  fish  girls — forms  that  had  been  left  as 
the  great  God  of  nature  made  them,  uncrippled  by  torturing  stays 
and  tight  vestments. 

How  easy  their  carriage !  with  v/hat  rude  grace  they  poised  upon 
their  heads  their  ponderous  baskets,  and  walked  erect  and  firm,  fill- 
ing the  air  with  their  mournfully-musical  cry  I  The  great  resem- 
blance between  these  people  and  the  Bavarian  broom-girlb,  both  in 
features  and  costume,  impressed  her  with  the  idea  thi.fc  they  had 
originally  belonged  to  the  same  race. 

The  New  Haven  sea-nymph,  however,  is  taller,  and  has  a  more 
imposing  presence,  than  the  short,  snub-nosed  Bavarian. 

But  time,  that  waits  on  no  one's  fancy  or  caprice,  warned  her 
that  she  must  not  linger  over  a  scene  which  she  afterwards  visited 
with  renewed  pleasure,  but  gave  her  a  gentle  hint  that  there  was 
work  to  be  done  at  home — that  she  had  better  make  her  purchases 
and  proceed  to  business. 

Having  bought  a  fine  cut  of  fresh  salmon,  she  bade  adieu  to  the 


■.ihniJaiifi=fc-_i 


:-.^"'^.:.r'i^r.-.  'f/-"l'i:.''-"'-.  ■    T^j;j|r 


mmamm 


f 


i! 


I!  ! 


'!    : 


156 


FLORA     LYNDSAV. 


market,  and  proceeded  to  the  poulterers,  where  she  made  cLoitc  of 
a  fat  pair  of  fowls,  which,  with  a  small  ham,  she  thought  would  just 
make  a  nice,  quiet  family  dinner.  She  returned  to  her  lodgings  in  high 
spirits,  despatching  Jim  to  the  green-grocer's,  in  the  next  street,  to 
buy  some  peas  and  young  potatoes,  and  then  followed  Hannah  and 
her  basket  into  Mrs.  Waddel's  kitchen. 

'•  Marcy  me  1  what  ha'  ye  got,  the  noo?"  said  Mistress  Waddel, 
lifting  the  napkin  from  the  basket ;  "  meat  enough,  I  declare,  to 
last  the  hale  week.  The  weather's  ow'r  hot,  I'm  thinkin',  for  a' 
they  to  keep  sweet  sae  lang." 

"  Mrs.  Waddel,  I  exjxict  two  gentlemen  to  dinner — particular 
friends  of  Mr.  Lyndsay — and  I  want  you  to  cook  these  things  for 
me  as  well  as  you  can,"  said  Flora,  coaxingly. 

"  Twa'  gentlemen,  did  ye  say  ?  There's  ten  times  mair  in  yon 
basket  than  twa'  gentlemen  can  eat !" 

•'  Of  course  there  is  ;  but  avc  cannot  stint  our  guests.  You  see, 
dear  Mrs.  Waddel,  I  want  you  to  boil  the  salmon,  (I'll  make  tho 
phrimp-sauce  myself),  and  to  roast  these  two  nice  fowls — they  are 
all  ready  for  the  spit — and  to  cook  tlic  ham,  and  a  few  peas  and 
potatoes." 

"  Whist,  woman !"  cried  Mrs.  Waddel,  interrupting  Flora's  elo- 
quent speech,  "  it  makes  my  held  ache  only  to  think  about  a'  that 
roast,  an'  boil,  an'  boil,  an'  roiust !  And  wha'  sail  wo  find  tho 
kittles  an'  the  coals  for  a'  that?" 

"  Of  course  you  must  have  pots  for  such  pur^DOses  ?"  said 
Flora,  and  her  spirits  began  to  sink  rapidly. 

"  Aye,  sic  as  they  be.  But  I  ha'  but  twa'  o'  tlicm ;  and  tho 
tearkittlo  serves  a  turn  noo'  an'  then.  Ye  ken  my  muckle  big  pot — 
that  ane  that  I  use  a  washin'  days — tak's  up  a'  tho  fire  to  its  ain- 
sel — and  the  ne'est  wunna  haud  a  muckle  ham,  without  cutting  it 
in  twa — an'  ye  wunna  like  that !" 

"  Oh,  certainly  not ! — But  are  these  your  whole  stock  ?" 

"  A'  but  twa  old  sauspans,  a  spider,  an'  a  wee  bit  panikin,  for 
melting  butter.  Ane  o'  the  sauspans  has  no  handle,  and  the 
other  has  a  muckle  hole  in  the  bottom  o'nt." 

"  And  pray,  how  did  you  contrive  to  cook  for  Lady  Weyms,  with 
such  utensils?"  asked  Flora,  rather  indignantly. 

"  Gudeness  gracious !  Do  ye  think  that  my  Leddy  Weyms 
cared  for  the  cooking  o'  the  like  o'  me  ?  When  his  late  majestic, 
God  bless  him,  honored  our  auld  toon  wi'  his  presence,  folk  woro 


i 


FLORA    LYXDSAY. 


157 


glad  to  get  a  decent  place  to  cover  their  heids,  an'  war'  in  no  wise 
ow'r  particular,  sae  they  could  get  lodged  awa." 

"  So  I  should  think — when  a  titled  lady  put  up  with  such  as 
these — where  the  mistress  engages  to  cook  for  her  lodgers,  and  hiia 
not  a  whole  pot  in  her  culinary  establishment." 

"  My  Leddy  brought  her  ain  cook,  an'  she  had  my  twa  host 
rooms,  jest  aff  the  passage,  whar'  Captain  Macphcrson  bides  the 
no'o." 

"  And  how  do  you  manage  to  cook  for  him  ?"  asked  Flora,  very 
gullenly. 

"  He  keeps  a  man.  An  auld  soger,  whar'  does  the  cooking 
hirasel." 

"  Do  you  think  you  could  borrow  a  pot  of  him,  big  enough  to 
hold  the  ham  ?" 

"  He's  awa',  in  the  countrie,  sure,  an'  will  not  be  home  this 
week,  an'  his  door  is  locked.  He's  afeard  of  trusting  an'  honest 
bodle  wi'  his  duds." 

Flora  sighed  from  the  very  bottom  of  her  heart ;  as  she  glancad 
at  the  array  of  crazy  vessels  that  Betty  Fiuser,  the  better  to  con- 
vince her  of  the  truth  of  her  mistress's  statements,  had  ranged  in 
rank  and  file  on  the  floor  at  her  feet.  As  Flora  examined  tho 
capabilities  of  these  old  pots,  which,  perhaps,  had  belonged  to  the 
widow's  grandfather,  and  were  so  antique  in  their  form  and  ajjpenr- 
ance,  that  they  might  have  been  considered  very  interesting  relics 
of  a  by-gone  age  by  the  members  of  the  Antiquarian  Society,  she 
began  to  despair  of  ever  cooking  a  dinner  in  them.  She  almost 
doubted  the  fact  that  they  had  ever  been  used  for  that  purpose. 

The  widow's  meals  were  of  the  most  simple  kind,  consisting  of 
porridge  in  the  morning — some  preparation  of  salt  or  fresh  fish  for 
dinner,  with  potatoes — and  if  she  did  occasionally  indulge  in  the 
luxury  of  butcher  meat,  as  she  termed  it,  the  purchase  was  so  small, 
that  it  was  either  broiled  on  the  gridiron,  or  suspended  before  tho 
fire  by  a  string,  with  a  broken  plate  placed  below  to  catch  tho 
gravy.  By  this  tedious  process,  she  had  contrived  to  prepare 
Btoaks  or  x  small  joint  for  her  lodgers,  and  the  result  had  been  that 
the  meat  was  either  raw  or  cooked  to  rags. 

After  a  great  deal  of  consultation,  Mrs.  Lyndsay  pitched  upon 
the  washing  boiler,  as  the  only  vessel  in  which  she  (lould  contrive 
to  boil  the  ham ;  but  then  another  difficulty  occurred — the  vessel 
was  so  large  that  it  monopolized  the  whole  width  of  the  small  grate, 


I 


. 


158 


FLOIIA    LYNDSAV. 


to  the  exclusion  of  the  flsh  and  vegetables.  She  thought  of  tho 
fireplace  in  her  chamber — which  the  hum  might  occupy  in  solitary 
state,  leavinj^  the  kitchen  range  free  for  the  other  dishes.  This 
plan  she  suggested  to  Mrs.  Waddel. 

"  If  I  light  a  fire  there,"  said  the  goml  woman,  "  ye  maun  buy 
the  coal  yoursel."  ' 

"  If  that  is  the  only  difficulty,"  said  Flora,  laughing,  "  we  caa 
Boon  surmoutjt  it.     Docs  the  chimney  smoke  ?" 

•'  I  dinna'  ken.  I  ha'  lived  in  this  flat  for  nigh  twenty  years, 
an'  I  never  put  fire  vo  a  coal  there  in  a'  that  time." 

"  At  any  rate,  we  can  but  try,"  said  Flora.  "  If  you  will  let 
Betty  buy  the  coals,  tho  sooner  we  make  the  experiment  the 
better." 

Coals  and  wood  were  soon  procurer! ;  the  old  chimney-board 
removed,  and  the  cobwebs  and  dust,  which  had  accunuilatcd  in  tho 
rusty  grate,  swept  out — the  materials  for  tho  fire  duly  laid,  and 
Betty  Fraser,  in  lieu  of  a  pair  of  bellows,  went  down  upon  her 
knees,  blowing  with  all  her  strength,  in  order  to  raise  a  flame,  and 
set  the  fire  going.  It  wsis  a  long  time  before  the  fire  thought  fit  to 
kindle;  but  when  it  did,  such  a  gush  of  black  smoke  rushed  from 
the  old  chimney,  that  it  not  only  darkened  the  gloomy  chamber, 
producing  a  temporary  night,  but  literally  filled  the  house.  Flora 
sprang  to  the  window,  and  threw  it  open  to  get  a  breath  of  air — 
she  felt  suffocated — while  Betty  commenced  coughing  and  sneezing 
as  if  she  never  meant  to  give  over.  But  this  was  not  the  worst  of 
the  matter.  The  swallows,  who  had  held  undisturbed  possession 
of  the  chimney  for  half  a  century,  in  making  their  exit  from  the 
smoke,  caused  such  a  sudden  rushing  and  clapping  of  wings,  that 
it  brotight  down  about  a  bushel  of  soot,  that  not  only  extin- 
guished the  fire,  but  covered  the  floor  around  the  fireplace  an  inch 
deep  with  black  dust.  This  fresh  disaster  made  Flora  and  Betty 
retreat  from  the  room,  as  fast  as  the  swallows  did  from  the  chim- 
ney. On  emerging  into  daylight  once  more,  the  faces  of  both 
mistress 'and  maid  were  as  black  aa  if  they  had  practise'^  iLc 
ney  sweeping  craft  for  half  their  lives. 

Flora  scarcely  knew  whether  to  laugh  or  <  very  belie^ 

she  did  both  the  one  and  the  other  ;  while  ly,  opening  hur 
great  black  eyes  to  their  largest  dimensions,  ana  liisin;^  uer  hands 
in  a  tragic  manner  above  her  head,  exclaimed,  in  a  piteous  tone  of 
Yoioe,  "  Did  you  ever" 


FLORA    LYXDSAY 


159 


'•  Sec  anything  so  provoking?"  saiJ  Flora,  finishing  the  sentence. 
"  lUitty,  what  are  wc  to  do  ?" 

"  Woel,  Ma'am,  if  ye'd  jest  tak  the  advice  o'  a  puir  bodie  like 
me,  Id  8uy,  ye  had  better  send  the  fowl  to  the  bakehouse,  an'  I'll 
get  a  neebor  woman  to  boil  the  ham  for  ye,  for  a  trifle  o'  siller." 

Flora  could  have  kissed  the  good-natured  luss.  na  she  saw  at 
length  a  way  through  the  troubles  that  beset  her. 

"  I  will  give  you  a  couple  of  shillings,  Betty,  for  yourself,  if  you 
w  ill  manage  this  for  me.  In  the  meanwhile,  do  you  think  it  posBi- 
ble  for  us  to  cook  the  other  things  at  the  kitchen-fire?" 

"  I'll  do  n»y  best  for  ye,"  cried  the  delighttid  lietty.  "  We  may 
nuik'  out  wi'  the  fish  and  the  vegetables ;  but  I  niisdoubt  the  pud- 
den'.  Cu'd  ye  not  get  a  pie  or  a  tart  frae  the  pa.stry-cook's  at  the 
end  o'  the  street  ?  Mistress  Waddel  ia  unco  lazy ;  she'll  no  fash 
hersel'  about  the  pudden'." 

This,  after  all,  was  the  only  feasible  plan  that  could  bo  acted 
upon ;  and  Flora  sent  Hannah  to  clear  away  the  soot  and  rubbish 
from  her  bed-room,  while  she  and  Betty  prepared  the  dinner. 

The  ham  was  sent  out  to  be  boiled,  the  chickens  to  be  baked  ; 
the  tarts  were  ordered  for  six  o'clock  ;  and  everything  was  in  a 
fair  train  but  the  fish  and  the  vegetables.  But  the  indefatigable 
Betty  procured  the  loan  of  a  small  pot  and  a  fish-kettle  from  the 
owners  of  the  flat  below  ;  and,  when  Lyndsay  returned  to  luncheon 
at  one  o'clock,  Flora  met  him  in  good  spirits,  and  made  him  laugh 
heartily  over  her  mishaps. 

The  dinner  went  ofif  better  than  could  have  been  expected,  though 
little  praise  could  be  conscientiously  given  to  the  cooking.  The 
fLsh  was  doile  too  much,  the  ham  too  little,  and  the  baked  fowls  look- 
cil  hard  and  dry.  The  pastry  was  the  only  thing  at  table  about 
which  no  fault  could  be  found. 

After  the  cloth  was  removed.  Flora  gave  the  poet  and  his  friend 
the  history  of  the  dinner,  which  so  amused  Mr.  M.,  that  he  declared 
it  was  worth  twenty  dinners  hearing  her  relate  the  misadventures 
of  the  morning.  Flora  forgot  the  disasters  of  the  day  while  enjoy- 
ing the  conversation  of  Mr.  M.  and  his  friend — men  who  had  won 
by  their  genius  no  common  literary  reputation  in  the  world  ;  and 
the  short  hour  "  ayont  the  twal "  had  been  tolled  some  time  from 
all  the  steeples  in  Edinburgh  before  the  little  party  separated, 
mutually  pleased  with  each  other,  never  to  meet  iu  this  world  of 
change  again. 


160 


FLOpA    LYNDSAY. 


CHAPTER  XXVI. 


i 


i 


hi 


!, 


J 


FEAna   OF   TIIK   CnOLKBA — DEPARTURE   FROM   SCOTLAND. 

The  cholera,  which  had  hitherto  only  claimed  a  few  victims  in 
the  city,  now  began  to  make  fearful  progress  ;  and  every  day 
enlarged  the  catalogue  of  the  dead,  and  those  who  were  laboring 
under  this  awful  disease. 

The  people  seemed  unwilling  to  name  the  ravages  of  the  plague 
to  each  other  ;  or  spoke  of  it  in  low,  mysterious  tones,  as  a  subject 
too  dreadful  for  ordinary  conversation. 

Just  at  this  time  Flora  fell  sick,  and  was  forced  to  keep  her 
bed  for  several  days.  At  first,  she  feared  that  her  illness  was  the 
terrible  pestilence ;  but,  though  very  nearly  resembling  it  in  most 
of  its  symptoms,  she  was  fortunate  enough  to  surmount  it. 

During  the  time  she  was  couOned  to  her  chamber,  Mrs.  Waddcl 
Kept  up  a  constant  lamentation,  declaring  that  the  reputation  of 
her  lodgings  would  be  lost  for  ever,  if  Mrs.  Lyndsay  should  die 
of  the  cholera  ;  yet,  to  do  the  good  creature*  justice,  she  waitwl 
upon  her,  and  nui*sed  her  with  the  most  unselfish  kindness — 
making  gallons  of  gruel,  which  the  invalid  scarcely  tasted;  and 
recommending  remedies  which,  if  adopted,  would  have  been  cer- 
tain to  kill  the  patient,  for  whose  life  she  most  earnestly  and 
devoutly  prayed. 

The  very  morning  that  Mrs.  T^yndsay  was  able  to  leave  her  bal, 
her  husband  got  a  note  from  Mr.  Gregg,  informing  him  that  tlio 
Anne  was  to  sail  at  four  o'clock  the  next  day. 

"  My  dear  Flora,"  said  Lyndsyy,  tenderly,  "  I  fear  you  are  not 
able  to  go  in  your  present  ,  oak  state." 

"  Oh  yes,  I  ohall  be  better  for  the  change,  'ihis  frightful  chol- 
era is  spreailing  on  all  siiies.  rhe  sooner,  dear  John,  we  can  leavo 
this  place  the  better.  Two  j^rsons,  Mrs.  "VVaddel  told  me,  died 
,  last  night  of  '*,  only  a  few  doors  off.  I  know  that  it  is  foolish  and 
unphilosoph'oal,  to  be  afraid  of  an  evil  which  we  cannot  avoi<l  •  out 
I  find  it  impossible  to  divest  myself  of  this  fear.  I  look  w  ise  than 
I  feol  just  now,"  she  continued,  wall  :ng  across  the  rooi ;,  and  sur- 
veying her  face  in  the  glass.  "  My  color  is  returning,  I  shall  pass 
muster  w'th  the  docu)rs  yet." 

The  great  buginess  of  pe^^king  up  for  the  voyage  went  steadHy 


n.OR.1*  LYNDSAY. 


161 


forward  all  day ;  and  before  six  in  the  evening,  truiik ,,  bedding, 
and  little  ship  stores,  were  on  boaix] ,  ready  for  a  start. 

Flora  was  surprised  in  the  afternoon  by  a  Visit  from  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Ureg^,  and  the  two  rosy  girls,  who  expressed  the  greatest 
regret  at  their  departure.  Thuy  bad  made  a  plum-cake  for  Mrs. 
Lyndsay  to  eat  during  the  voyage ;  and  truly  it  looked  big  enough 
to  have  lasted  out  a  trip  to  the  South  Seas,  while  Mrs.  Gregg  hud 
brought  various  snmll  tin  canisters  filled  with  all  sorts  of  furana- 
ci  0U3  food  f»)r  the  baby. 

Abundant  as  their  kindness  was,  the  blessings  and  good  wislios 
llioy  heaped  upon  the  emigrantd  were  more  abundant  still — the 
kiiul-hearteil  mother  and  her  bonnie  girls  kissing  them  at  parting, 
with  tears  coursing  down  their  rosy  cheeks.  Mr.  Gregg,  who  wa.s 
terribly  afraid  of  the  cholera,  tried  to  raise  his  owr»  spirits,  by  de- 
scribing all  the  fatal  symptoms  of  the  disease,  and  gava  them  a  faith- 
ful catalogue  of  those  who  had  died  of  it  that  morning  in  the  city, 
lie  had  great  faith  in  a  new  remedy,  which  was  just  then  making 
a  noise  In  the  town,  which  had  been  tried  the  day  before,  on  a  rela- 
tion of  his  own — the  injection  of  aalt  into  the  veins  of  the  suf- 
ferer. 

"  Did  it  cure  him?"  asked  Flora,  rather  eagerly. 

"  Why  no,  I  canna  jest  say  it  did.  But  it  enabled  him  to  mak' 
hi-!  will  an'  settle  a'  his  worldly  affairs,  which  was  a  great  point 
gained " 

"  For  the  living,"  sighed  Flora.  "  Small  satisfaction  to  the 
(lying,  to  be  disturbed  in  their  last  agonies,  by  attending  to  matters 
of  businass,  while  a  greater  reckoning  is  left  unpaid." 

"  You  lo(jk  ill  youinjel,  Mistress  Lyndsay,"  continued  the  gootj 
man.  "  Let's  ho^xj  that  it's  not  the  connnencement  of  the  awfu* 
disease." 

"  I  thought  80  myself  two  days  ago,"  said  Flora.  "  I  am  grate- 
ful to  God  that  it  was  not  the  cholera,  though  an  attack  very 
ni'iuly  akin  to  it.    Does  it  ever  break  out  on  boanl  ship  ?" 

"  It  is  an  allliction  sae  lately  sent  upon  the  nations  by  the  Ijord, 
that  we  ha'  had  snia'  experience  o'  the  matter,"  quoth  Mr.  Gregfj-. 
"  Vour  best  chance  is  to  trust  in  llim.  For  let  us  be  ever  so 
cautious,  an  xie  wills  it,  we  canna'  escape  out  o'  J  lis  hand." 

"  Perhaps  its  the  best  way  to  confide  ourselves  entirely  to  His 
cure,  and  to  thirk  as  little  about  it  as  we  possibly  can.  All  our 
precautions  rera;ud  mo  of  the  boy  who  hid  in  the  cellar  during 


1G2 


FLORA    LYKDSAY. 


a  terrible  thunderstorm,  in  the  hope  that  the  lightning  would  never 
find  him  there,  little  dreaming  that  his  place  of  safety  exposed  him 
to  as  much  danger  as  a  stand  on  the  house-top.  A  man  may  run 
away  from  a  battle,  and  escape  from  a  fire,  but  it  seems  to  me  of 
little  use  attempting  to  fly  from  a  pestilence  which  lurks  in  the 
very  air  we  breathe,  the  water  we  drink,  and  the  food  we  take  to 
;^ourish  us.  Faith  in  the  mercy  of  God,  and  submission  to  His 
will,  appear  to  me  the  only  remedies  at  all  likely  to  avert  tho 
danger  we  shrink  from  with  so  vmuli  fear." 

"  It  comes  like  a  thief  in  the  night,"  said  Mr.  Gregg  ;  "  and  it 
behooves  us  to  all  mind  the  warning  o'  the  Saviour,  to  watch  an' 
pray,  for  we  know  not  at  what  hour  the  Master  of  the  house 
cometh." 

After  the  good  Greggs  had  made  their  adieu^,  Flora  felt  so  much 
recovered  that  she  accompanied  her  husband  in  a  coach,  to  bid  the 
rest  of  their  kind  friends  in  Edinburgh  farewell. 

They  drove  first  to  the  house  of  Mr.  W.,  where  Flora  had  spent 
many  happy  days  during  her  sojourn  in  Leith.  Mr.  AV.  had  an 
only  son,  who  held  an  official  situation  at  the  Cape  of  Good  Hope. 
Lyndsay  had  been  on  intimate  terms  with  this  gentleman  during 
his  residence  in  the  colony  ;  and  on  his  return  to  Scotland,  he  was 
always  a  welcome  visitor  at  the  house  of  his  parents.  They  loved 
to  talk  of  Willie  to  Lyndsay,  and  treasured  up  as  household  words 
any  little  anecdotes  they  could  collect  of  his  colonial  life.  Mrs.  W. 
and  her  two  dau^ihters  were  highly  accomplished,  elegant  women. 
They  took  a  deep  interest  in  tho  fate  of  the  emigrants,  and  were 
always  devising  plans  for  their  future  comfort. 

jVS  to  the  father  of  the  family,  he  was  a  perfect  original — shrewd, 
sarcastic,  clever,  and  very  ugly.  The  world  called  him  morose 
and  ill-naturexl ;  but  the  world  only  judged  from  his  face,  and  most 
certainly  he  should  have  indicted  it  for  bringing  false  witness 
against  him.  It  was  a  libellous  face,  that  turned  the  worst  aspect 
to  the  world  ;  its  harsh  lines  and  exaggerated  features  magnifying 
mental  defects,  while  they  concealed  the  good  qualities  of  the  warm, 
generous  heart,  that  shone  like]  some  precious  gem  within  that 
hard,  rough  caso. 

Mr.  "W.  loved  opposition,  and  oourted  it.  He  roused  himself  up 
to  an  argument,  as  a  terrier  dog  rouses  himself  to  kill  rats ;  and, 
like  the  said  terrier,  when  he  got  the  advantage  of  his  opponent,  ho 
loved  to  worry  and  to  tease,  to  hold  on  till  the  kat,  till  the  van- 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


163 


quished  was  fain  to  cry  aloud  for  mercy ;  and  then  his  main  object 
in  quitting  the  dispute  was  to  lie  in  wait  for  a  fresh  tuzzle.  Flora 
laughed  at  all  his  blunt  speeches,  and  enjoyed  his  rude  wit,  and 
opposed  him,  and  argued  with  him  to  his  heart's  content,  until  they 
l.ocame  the  best  friends  in  the  world.  Their  first  meeting  was  so 
cliaracteristic,  that  we  must  give  it  here. 

She  had  accepted  an  invitation  to  dine,  with  her  husband,  at  Mr. 
W.'s  house.     It  was  only  a  family  party,  and  they  were  to  come 

early.   On  their  arrival,  they  found  that  Mr.  AV had  been  called 

away  on  business,  but  was  expected  back  to  dinner.  After  chat- 
ting a  while  to  Mrs.  W and  her  daughters.  Flora's  attention 

was  strongly  directed  to  an  oil  painting  which  hung  above  tho 
drawing-room  mantel-piece.  It  was  the  portrrvit  of  an  old  man,  as 
large  as  life.  The  figure  was  represented  in  a  sitting  posture,  his 
head  leaning  upon  his  hand,  or  rather  the  chin  supported  in  tho 
open  palm.  Tlie  eyes  glanced  upward  with  a  sarcastic,  humorous 
expression,  as  if  the  original  were  in  the  act  of  asking  some  ques- 
tion which  alistener  might  find  no  easy  matter  to  answer  ;  and  a 
gmile  of  mischievous  triumph  hovered  about  the  mouth.  It  was 
an  extraordinary  countenance.  No  common  every-day  face,  to 
which  you  could  point  and  say,  "  Does  not  that  put  you  in  mind  of 
Mr.  So-and-So  ?"  Memory  could  supply  no  duplicate  to  this  pic- 
ture. It  was  like  but  one  other  face  in  the  world — the  one  from 
which  it  had  been  faithfully  copied.  It  was  originally  meant  for  a 
handsoine  face,  but  the  features  were  exaggerated  until  they  became 
grotesque  and  coarse  in  the  extreme,  and  the  thick,  bushy,  iron- 
grey  hair  and  whiskers,  and  clay-colored  complexion,  put  the  finish- 
ing strokes  to  a  portrait  which  might  be  considered  the  very  ideal 
of  ugliness. 

Willie  Flora  sat  looi  iug  at  the  picture,  and  secretly  wondering 
how  any  person  Avith  such  a  face  could  bear  to  sec  it  transferred  to 
canvass,  she  was  suddenly  roused  from  her  reverie  by  the  pressure 
of  a  heavy  hand  upon  her  shoulder,  and  a  gentleman  in  a  very  grulT, 
but  by  no  means  an  ill-natured  or  morose  voice,  thus  addressed 
her  : 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  d d  ugly  old  fellow  in  your  life 

before?" 

"  Never,"  returned  Flora,  very  innocently.  Then,  looking  up 
in  his  face,  she  cried  out  with  a  sudden  start,  and  without  the  least 
mental  reservation,  '•  It  is  the  picture  of  yourself!" 


164 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"  Yo8,  it  i&  my  picture.  An  excellent  likeness— half  bull-dog, 
half  terrier.  Judging  from  that  ugly,  crabbed  old  dog  over  the 
mantelpiece  what  sort  of  a  fellow  ought  I  to  be?" 

He  said  this  with  a  malicious  twinkle  in  his  clear,  grey  eyes,  that 
glanced  like  sparks  of  fire  from  under  his  thick,  bushy  eyebrows. 

"  Better  than  you  look,"  said  Flora,  laughing.  "  But  your  ques- 
tion is  not  a  fair  one,  Mr.  W ;  I  was  taken  by  surprise,  and 

you  must  not  press  mo  too  hard." 

"  A  clear  admission,  young  lady,  that  you  would  rather  avoid 
telling  the  truth." 

•'  It  is  the  portrait  of  o  plain  man." 

"  Pshaw  1  You  did  not  qualify  it  as  such  in  your  own  mind. 
Plain  is  only  one  degree  worse  than  good-looking.  You  thought 
it " 

"Ugly — if  you  insist  upon  it." 

"Nothing  worse?" 

"  Eccentric — pugnacious — satirical." 

"  God's  truth.    But  that  was  not  all." 

"  Cood  heavens !  but  what  am  I  to  say?" 

"  Don't  swear  ;  'tis  not  fashionable  for  ladies.  I  do  it  myself; 
but  'tis  a  bad  habit.  Now  shall  I  tell  you  what  you  did  think  of 
the  picture?" 

'•  I  would  I'athcr  have  your  opinion  than  mine  ?" 

"To  relieve  you  from  the  horns  of  the  dilemma?  AVoll,  then  ; 
you  thought  it  the  ugliest,  most  repulsive,  and  withal  the  oddest 
phiz  you  ever  saw  ;  and  you  wondered  how  any  one  M'ith  such  a 
hideous,  morose  countenance,  could  ever  sit  for  the  picture  ?" 

"  Indeed  I  did." 

"  Good  !"  cried  her  tormentor,  clapping  his  hands.  "You  and 
I  must  be  friends.  You  wonder  how  I  came  to  guess  your  thoughts ; 
I  know  them  by  my  own.  Had  any  one  asked  my  opinion  of  the 
picture  of  another  man,  as  ugly  as  that,  I  8houl(|  have  spoken  out 
])lainly  enough.  I  have  often  woi\dered  that  the  Almighty  con- 
descended to  animate  such  an  ill-looking  lump  of  clay  with  a  por- 
tioh  of  His  Divine  Spirit.  Fortunately  the  qualities  of  the  mind 
do  not  depend  upon  the  beauty  of  the  fate — though  personal  beauty 
is  greatly  increased  by  the  noble  qualities  of  the  mind  ;  and  I  know 
my  inner  man  to  be  as  vastly  superior  to  its  outer  case,  as  the  moon 
is  to  the  cloud  she  pierces  with  her  rays.    To  mind,  I  am  indebted 


yLORA    LYNDSAY. 


165 


Tor  the  greatest  happiness  I  enjoy — the  confidence  and  affection  of 
my  wife  and  children. 

"  Mrs.  W was  reckoned  pretty  in  her  youth ;  I  think  her 

so  still.  She  was  of  a  good  family,  too  ;  with  a  comfortable  inde* 
pendcnee,  and  had  lovers  by  the  score.  Yet  she  fell  in  love  with 
the  ugly  fellow  and  married  him,  though  he  had  neither  fame  nor 
fortune,  to  offer  her  in  exchange.  Nothing  but  the  mental  treasures 
he  had  hid  away  from  the  world  in  this  rough  casket.  My  daugh- 
ters are  elegant,  accomplished  girls  ;  not  beauties,  to  be  sure,  but 
pleasing  enough  to  be  courted  and  sought  after.  Yet  they  are  proud 
of  being  thought  like  their  ugly  old  father.  That  picture  must  be 
a  likeness  ;  it  ia  portrayed  by  the  hand  of  love.  My  dear  girl  thero 
drew  it  with  her  own  pencil,  and  rejoiced  that  she  had  caught  the 
very  expression  of  my  face.  To  her,  my  dear  lady,  it  is  beautiful, 
for  love  is  blind.  She  docs  not  heed  the  ugly  features ;  she  only 
sees  the  mind  she  honors  and  obeys,  looking  through  them." 

"  Ah,  dear  papa,  who  that  knows  you,  as  we  know  yoa,  couH 

evei'  think  you  ugly?"  said  Mary  W ,  laying  her  hand  on  t'ae 

okl  man's  shoulder,  and  looking  fondly  and  proudly  in  his  face. 
"  But  I  have  forgotten  all  this  time  to  introduce  you  to  Mrs.  Lynd- 
say." 

"  My  old  friend  Lyndsay's  wife  ?  I  ought  not  to  be  pleased  with 
you,  madam,  for  you  disappointed  a  favorite  scheme  of  mine." 

"  How  could  that  possibly  be?"  said  Flora. 

"  I  loved  that  man  of  yours ;  I  wanted  him  for  a  son-in-law.  Of 
course,  neither  I  nor  the  girls  hinted  such  a  wish  to  him.  But  had 
he  asked,  he  would  not  have  been  refused." 

"  Mrs.  Lyndsay,"  broke  in  Mary  W ,  "  you  must  not  mind 

papa's  nonsense.  He  will  say  just  what  he  likes.  Mr.  Lyndstiy 
was  always  a  great  favorite  with  us  all ;  and  papa  would  have  his 
joke  at  our  expense." 

"  Well,  my  young  friend  has  thought  fit  to  iilease  himself,  and  I 
am  so  well  pleased  with  his  wife,  that  she  shall  sit  by  the  ugly  old 
■iian  ;  '  an  I  will  ha'  a  spate  o'  clatter  wi'  her  to  mine  ain  sel.'  " 

The  more  Flora  saw  of  the  eccentric  old  man,  the  more  she 
admired  and  respected  him.  In  a  little  time,  she  ceased  to  think 
him  ugly— he  was  only  plain  and  odd  looking  ;  till  at  length,  like 
all  the  rest  of  Mr.  W 's  friends,  she  almost  believed  him  hand- 
some. 


166 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


When  did  genius  ever  fail  to  leave  upon  the  radest  clay  an  im< 
press  of  divine  origin. 

It  was  with  feelings  of  mutual  r^ret,  that  our  emigrants  took 
leave,  and  for  ever,  of  this  talented  family.  Before  the  expiration 
of  one  short  year,  that  happy  group  of  kind  faces  had  passed  out 

of  the  world.    The  sudden  death  of  the  younger  Mr.  W ,  who 

was  the  idol  of  the  family,  brought  his  mother  in  sorrow  to  the 
grave.  The  girls,  by  some  strange  fatality,  only  survived  her  a 
few  weeks ;  and  the  good  old  man,  bereft  of  every  kindred  tie,  pined 
away  and  died  of  a  broken  heart. 

Some  years  after  Flora  had  been  settled  in  Canada,  a  gentle- 
man from  Scotland,  wlw  had  been  acquainted  with  the  W 

family,  told  hor  that  he  called  upon  the  old  gentleman  on  a 
matter  of  business,  a  few  days  after  the  funeral  of  his  youngest 
daughter.  The  old  man  opened  the  door:  he  was  shrunk  to  a 
skeleton,  and  a  perfect  image  of  woe.  When  he  saw  who  his 
visitor  was,  he  shook  his  thin,  wasted  hand  at  him,  with  a  mel- 
ancholy, impatient  gesture,  exclaiming,  "  What  brings  you  here, 

P ?    Leave  this  death-doomed  house !    I  am  too  miserable  to 

attend  to  anything  but  my  own  burden  of  incurable  grief." 

He  called  again  the  following  morning.  The  poor  old  man  was 
dead. 

The  next  day  the  emigrants  bade  farewell  to  the  beautiful  capital 
of  Scotland.  How  gladly  would  Flora  have  terminated  her  earthly 
pilgrimage  in  that  land  of  poetry  and  romance,  and  spent  the  rest 
of  her  days  among  its  truthful,  high-minded,  hospitable  people! 
But  vain  are  regrets.  The  inexorable  spirit  of  progress  points 
onward ;  and  the  beings  she  chooses,  to  be  the  parents  of  a  new 
people,  in  a  new  land,  must  fulfil  their  august  destiny. 

On  the  1st  of  July,  1832,  the  Lyndsay's  embarked  on  board  the 
brig  Anne,  to  seek  a  new  home  beyond  the  Atlantic,  and  friends 
in  a  land  of  strangers. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


L6t 


CHAPTER   XXVIL 


A   VEVr   SCENE   AND   STRANOE   PACES. 

•Four  o'clock,  p.  m.,  had  been  tolled  from  all  the  steeples  in 
Edinburgh,  when  Flora  stood  upon  the  pier  "  o'  Leith,"  watch- 
ing the  approach  of  the  small  boat  that  was  to  convey  her  on 
board  the  ugly,  black  vessel,  that  lay  at  anchor  at  the  Berwick 
I^aw.  It  was  a  warm,  close,  hazy  afternoon  ;  distant  thnnder 
muttered  among  the  hills,  and  dense  clouds  floated  around  the 
mountain  from  base  to  summit,  shrouding  its  rugged  outline  in  a 
mysterious  robe  of  mist.  Ever  and  anon,  as  the  electrical  breeze 
sprang  up  and  stirred  these  grey  masses  of  vapor,  they  rolled  up  in 
black,  shadowy  folds,  that  took  all  sorts  of  Ossianic  and  phantom- 
like forms — spirits  of  bards  and  warriors,  looking  from  their  grey 
clouds  upon  the  land  their  songs  had  immortalized,  or  their  valor 
saved. 

Parties  of  emigrants  and  their  friends  were  gathered  together 
in  small  picturesque  groups  on  the  pier.  The  cheeks  of  the 
women  were  pale  and  wet  with  tears.  The  words  of  blessing 
and  farewell,  spoken  to  those  near  and  dear  to  them,  were  often 
interrupted  by  low,  pitiful  wails,  and  heart-breaking  sobs. 

Flora  stood  apart  waiting  for  her  husband,  who  had  been  to  thp 
ship,  and  was  in  the  returning  boat  that  was  now  making  its  way 
tiirough  the  water  to  take  her  off.  Sad  she  was,  and  pale  and 
anxious ;  for  the  wide  world  was  all  before  her,  a  world  of  new 
SQcnes  and  strange  faces — a  future  as  inscrutable  and  mysterious 
as  that  from  which  humanity  instinctively  shrinks,  which  leads  so 
many  to  cling  with  expiring  energy  to  evils  with  which  they  have 
grown  familiar,  rather  than  launch  alone  into  that  unknown  sea 
which  never  bears  upon  its  bosom  a  returning  sail.  Ah,  well  is  it 
fur  the  poor,  trembling  denizens  of  earth  that — 

'*  HeftTen  from  all  creatarea  bides  th«  book  of  fkte," 

or  how  could  they  bear  up  from  day  to  day  against  the  accumu- 
lated ills  that  beset  them  at  every  turn  along  the  crooked  paths  of 
life? 

Flora  had  already  experienced  that  bitterness  of  grief,  far  worse 
than  death,  that  separates  the  emigrant  from  the  home  of  hi?  love, 


168 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


the  friends  of  his  early  youth,  the  land  of  his  birth ;  and  she  shed 
no  tear  over  the  mournful  recollection,  though  the  deep  sigh  that 
shook  her  heart  to  its  inmost  depths,  told  that  it  was  still  felt  and 
painfully  present  to  her  memory. 

She  stood  alone  among  that  weeping  crowd ;  no  kindred  hand 
was  there  to  press  hers  for  the  last  time,  or  bid  God  speed  her  on 
her  perilous  voyage.  Oh,  what  a  blessing  it  would  have  been  at 
that  moment,  to  have  bent  a  parting  glance  on  some  dear,  familiar 
face,  and  gathered  strength  and  consolation  from  eyes  full  of  affec- 
tion and  sympathy  1 

The  beautiful  landscape  that  had  so  often  cheered  and  gladdened 
her  heart,  during  her  brief  sojourn  in  that  glorious  laud,  no  longer 
smiled  upon  her,  but  was  obscured  iu  storm  and  gloom.  The  thun- 
der, which  had  only  muttered  at  a  distance,  now  roared  among  the 
cloud-capped  hills,  and  heavy  drops  of  rain  began  to  patter  slowly 
upon  the  earth  and  sea.  These  bright  globules,  in  advance  of  the 
heavy  shower  whose  approach  they  anuouuced,  made  small  dimples 
in  the  waters,  spreading  anon  into  large  circles,  until  the  surface 
of  the  salt  brine  seemed  to  boil  and  dance,  which  a  few  minutes 
before  had  lain  so  glassy  and  still  beneath  the  hot  breath  of  the 
coming  storm.  Flora  thought  how  soou  those  billows,  shaking  oir 
their  brief  slumber,  would  chafe  and  roar  for  ever  between  her  aud 
her  native  land. 

Then  the  lines  of  Nature's  own  bard,  the  unhappy  but  immortal 
Burns,  whose  fame  had  become  as  eternal  a.s  those  ancient  hills, 
rose  to  her  mind,  and  she  could  fancy  him  standing  upon  that  very 
spot,  breathing  out  from  the  depths  of  his  great,  inspired  heart,  the 
painful  separation  he  anticipated,  when  called  by  ailverse  circuni- 
stances  to  leave  old  Scotia's  shores  and  the  woman  he  adored  : 

•'  The  boat  rocks  at  the  pier  o'  Licth, 
The  ship  rides  at  the  Berwick  Law, 
And  I  maun  leave  my  beanie  Marjr." 

The  words  still  hovered  on  her  lips  when  the  boat  touched  the 
pier,  and  her  husband  threw  his  arms  around  her  and  lifted  her 
and  ihe  dear  oflspring  of  their  mutual  love,  into  the  small  bark  that 
was  to  bear  them  away  from  the  glorious  land  of  Bruce  and  Burns. 
The  men  bent  to  their  oars,  and  in  a  few  minutes,  she  found  her- 
self one  among  the  many  strangers  that  crowded  the  narrow  deck 
of  the  emigrant  ship.  ^ 


FLORA    LYXDSAY. 


1G9 


The  dofwu-pouring  of  tlic  thundcr-showcr  compelled  her  to  take 
tnstunt  refuge  in  the  cabin,  followed  by  Hannah  and  the  child. 

The  little  dingy  place  dignified  by  that  name,  was  crowded  witli 
trunks  oad  packages,  piled  ii^wn  each  otiior  in  endless  confusion ; 
Rnd  the  dose  atmosphere  was  rendered  more  hot  and  suflTooating 
from  the  mingled  odors  of  brandy,  onions,  red  herrings,  and  tobac- 
co ;  the  smoke  from  several  pipes  floatotl  in  lazy  Avreaths  through 
the  confined  apaqe,  ajid  effectually  concealed,  for  the  first  few  min- 
utes, the  parties  iudul«;ing  iti  tlio  dreamy  luxury  of  the  fragrant 
weed. 

The  gloom  occasioned  by  the  passiwg  thunder-clouds  produced  a 
dim  twilight  in  the  little  room,  which  looked  more  like  the  den 
ill  a  travelling  menagerie,  appropriated  to  the  use  of  some  im- 
prisoned lord  of  the  desert,  tliau  a  fitting  habitation  for  civilized 
men  and  women,  * 

Flora  gropod  her  way  to  the  bench  that  surrounded  the  walls,  and 
pjr  a  few  minutes  covered  hei'  face  with  her  hamls,  to  conceal  her 
agitation  and  keep  down  the  swelling  of  hor  heart,  before  she  gained 
^iilRcient  courage  to  recoiinoiti'e  the  aspect  of  her  temporary  home. 
At  length,  she  succeeded  in  calming  Ikh-  feelings,  and  was  able  to 
look  about  her. 

The  Captain  was  sitting  upon  a  laj'gc  tiiuik  in  his  shirt-sleeves, 
with  a  short  pipe  stuck  between  his  teeth,  holding  in  one  hand  a 
tumbler  of  brandy  punch,  and  in  the  other  a  bujidle  of  papers  con- 
taining a  list  of  his  passejigeivs,  which  he  was  in  the  act  of  prdler- 
mg  for  the  inspection  of  the  excise  officers,  who  were  settling  with 
him  sundry  matters  of  business,  connected  witli  the  cargo  of  the 
ship. 

Two  sinister,  ill-looklng  men  tliey  wore,  who  spoke  with  loud, 
authoritative  voices,  and  for  the  time  being,  appeared  masters  of 
the  vessel  and  all  that  it  contained,  examining  with  provokinji^ 
exactness  cupboards,  bedtling,  boxes,  and  bins  of  biscuit,  till  theru 
seemed  no  end  to  theii*  prying  and  vexatious  system  of  cross-(iues- 
tioning. 

The  Captain  notified  his  consciousness  of  liie  presence  of  the  new- 
comers with  a  short  nod  of  recognition;  but  he  was  too  jnuch  occu- 
pied to  welcome  them  with  words.  lie  seemed  in  a  desperate  ill- 
humor  with  his  official  visitors,  and  replied  to  all  their  queries  with 
a  significant  elevation  of  his  broad  shoukleis,  and  a  brief  "  No"  or 
"  Yes,"  which  greatly  reserabkxi  a  growl. 

8 


no 


FLOHA    LYNDSAT. 


Durin;^  his  absciico  on  deck,  whither  he  accompanlctT  the  senior 
olBccr,  his  companion^  who  was  seated  on  the  bench  opposite  ta 
tliat  occupied  by  Mrs.  Lyiidsay  and  her  maid,  with  his  back  toau 
open  bin,  full  of  bisciiits  and  other  sca-storcs,  took  tlw?  opiwrtunity 
adbrded  by  the  Captain's  departure,  in  filiinjj  the  Impe  pockets  ii> 
his  large  jacket  with  tin?  sai(f  stoves,  until  his  tall,  lunk  person,  wa5> 
swelled  out  into  very  jiortly  dinu'usions.  lie  then  msah  a  sudden 
dash  at  the  brandy-bottle,  which  the  Captain  had  Jeft  on  the  tabli?, 
and,  casting  a  thievish  glai>ce  at  Mrs.  L}iiilsay,  who  was  highly 
anmscd  by  watching  his  imn'emcnts,  he  refillc^i  hiagliiss,  and  tossed 
it  olFwith  the  air  of  a  child  who  is  afraid  of  being  (ktected,  while 
on  a  foraging  expedition  into  ^famn1a's  cupboard.  This  matter  set- 
tled, he  wipetl  his  mouth  with  the  cuff  of  his  jacket,  and  assumed  a 
look  of  vulgar  consequence  andsnix^riorily,  which  niu.it  have  forced 
a  smile  to  Flora's  lips,  had  she  been  at  all  in  a  luunor  for  mirth. 

"Htrange,"  she  thought,  as  she  sat  muniAl  up  in  her  cloak,  a 
silent  spectatress  of  his  manceuvres,  "  that  such  a  mean,  dishonest 
wretch  as  thii,  should  be  empowered  to  act  the  petty  tyrant,  and 
pass  judgment  on  the  integrity  of  others,  who  is  so  destitute  of  the 
principles  of  common  honesty  hin>.self  I" 

She  certainly  forgot,  during  her  jiietital  coIToqtiy,  the  wisdonx 
concealed  beneath  the  homely  addage,  "  Set  a  thief  to  catch  a 
thief!"  and  the  profound  ]^ iiowlixlge  of  the  world  hidilen  in  the 
brief,  pithy  sentence. 

The  provolring  basiness  of  iaspection  (for  so  it  seemed  to  the 
Captain — to  judge  by  his  flusbcil  cheek  and  frowning  brow),  was  at 
length  over,  and  the  oflicers  withdrew,  and  were  aucceeded  by  the 
doctor,  who  was  appointwl  to  inspect  the  health  of  the  crew  and 
passengers,  before  the  ship  sailed. 

Doctor  Mae  Adie  was  a  lively,  little,  red-haired  man,  with  high 
cheek-bones,  and  a  large,  Roman  nose,  out  of  all  proportion  to  the 
size  of  his  diminutive  body,  but  perfectly  harmonizing  with  his  wide, 
sensible-looking  mouth.  Jlis  shai-p,  clear,  blue  eyes,  seemed  to  have 
crept  as  close  to  his  nose  as  they  possibly  could,  in  the  vain  hope 
of  glancing  over  the  high,  ridgy  barrier  it  formed  between  them, 
which  gave  to  their  owner  a  peculiarly  acute,  penetrating  expres- 
Bion — a  glance  which  appeared  to  look  you  through  and  through  ; 
yet,  though  extremely  grotesque,  it  was  a  l^enevolent,  pleasing  face, 
full  of  blunt  kindness  and  ready  wit. 

The  Doctor's  snuff-box  seemed  part  aod  parcel  of  himself;  for 


^ng^^ 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


ni 


the  quaint,  old-fosliioncd  horn  repository,  that  contained  the  pungent 
powder,  real  Scotch,  never  left  his  hand  during  his  professional  dia- 
logue with  Mrs.  Lyndsay. 

Ho  shook  his  head,  as  his  keen  eyes  read  sickness  of  mind  and 
body  in  her  weary  and  care-worn  face.  "  Ye  arc  ill,  my  gudo 
letldy,"  he  said,  in  broad  Scotch  ;  "  in  nae  condition  to  undertuk' 
sic  a  lang  voyage." 

Mrs.  Lyndsay  answered  frankly  and  truly,  that  she  han  been  in- 
disposed during  the  past  week,  and  her  recovery  was  so  recent,  that 
Bhe  felt  much  better  in  health  than  her  looks  warranted. 

The  Doctor  examined  her  tongue,  felt  her  pulse,  and  still  shook 
his  head  doubtingly.  "  Feverish — rapid  pulse — b(>d  tongue — jest 
out  o*  yer  bed,  from  attack  near  akin  to  cholera.  I  tell  ye  that  ye 
are  mair  fit  to  go  to  be<l  again,  under  the  dochtor's  care,  than  to 
attempt  crossing  the  Atlantic  in  a  close  crib  like  this." 

"  The  fresh  sea  air  will  soon  restore  me  to  health,"  said  Flora. 
"  You  know.  Doctor,  that  we  cannot  command  circumstances,  and 
have  things  exactly  as  we  could  wish  ;"  and  she  chocked  the  sigh 
that  rose  to  her  lips,  as  she  recalled  to  mind  her  dear,  comfortaV)io 

cottage  at ,  and   glanced   round  the  narrow  cabin  and  its 

miserable,  accommodations. 

The  Doctor  regarded  her  with  eyes  full  of  compassion.  He  cer- 
tainly guessed  her  thoughts,  and  seemed  as  well  acquainted  with 
complaints  of  the  mind  as  with  bodily  ailments. 

"  Weel,  wool,  I  ha'e  my  ain  doubts  as  to  your  fitness  for  sic  a 
voyage  in  your  weak  state ;  but  I'll  e'en  jc-st  let  ye  pass.  Are  ye 
married  or  single?" 

"  Married." 

"  An'  the  gudc  man  ? " 

"  la  on  the  deck  with  the  captain.    He  will  be  here  presently." 

"  Ha'e  ye  ony  bairns?" 

Flora  pointed,  with  a  feeling  of  maternal  pride,  to  the  little 
Josey,  who  was  sleeping  upon  Hannah's  knees,  a  lovely  picture 
of  healthy,  happy  infancy. 

*•  Aye,  she's  bonnie,"  cried  the  kind  Doctor,  taking  one  of  the 
tiny  alabaster  fingers  of  the  babe  in  his  red,  rough  hand.  "  Sma' 
need  o'  a  dochter  in  her  case.  An'  wha's  this  woman  ?"  touching 
Hannah's  shoulder  with  his  forefinger. 

"  My  nurse-girl." 

**  A  married  woman  ?" 


112 


FLORA   LYND8AY. 


"  No,  Sir." 

**  Sho  sbu'd  be,  Fm  jest  thinkiu';  it  wiM  no  be  lang  before  she's 
a  nutlier,"  muttered  the  little  muii.  Then,  turning  quickly  to  Flora, 
ho  said,  "  I  wull  speak  to  the  medical  man  on  board,  un'  tell  him  to 
tak'  partic'lar  care  o'  ye  during  the  voyage.    What's  hia  name  ?" 

"  There  is  no  such  j>crson.  The  vessel  is  too  small  to  incur  such 
an  expensive  addition  to  the  comfort  of  her  passengers.  1'hc  cap- 
tain said  he  was  his  own  doctor." 

"  How  many  passengers  docs  he  tak'  out  ?" 

"  Seventy-two  in  the  steerage,  five  in  the  cabin,  besides  his  crew : 
eight  in  number." 

"  Eighty-five  human  beings,  an'  no  medical  man  on  board !  Tis 
jest  a  disgrace  to  the  owners,  and  shu'd  be  reported.  In  case  o' 
cholera,  or  ony  other  epedemic  brakin'  out  amang  ye,  wha'  wu'd 
become  o'  ye  a'  ?" 

"  We  must  trust  in  God.  The  great  Physician  of  souls  will  not 
be  forgetful  of  our  bodily  infirmities." 

"  True,  true,  young  leddy ;  cling  close  to  Him.  Ye  ha'  mucklo 
need  o'  His  care.  An'  dinna  trust  your  life  to  the  dochtering  o'  a 
sullen  ignoramus  like  the  captain, — an  obstinate,  self-willed  brute, 
that,  right  or  wrang,  will  ha'  his  ain  way.  Dinna  tak'  ony  medi- 
cine frae  him." 

Flora  was  amused  at  the  idea  of  calling  in  a  one-e}'cd  Esculapius 
like  the  jolly  captain.  The  absurdity  of  the  thing  made  her  laugh 
heartily. 

"  It's  nae  laughing  matter,"  said  the  little  doctor,  whose  profes- 
sional dignity  was  evidently  wounded  by  her  mistimed  mirth. 

"  Hout !  dinna'  I  ken  the  ma'n  for  the  last  ten  years  or  mair. 
Thae  medicine  kist  he  prizes  mair  than  his  sole  remaining  e'e,  an' 
fancies  himsel  a  dochtor  fitting  a  king.  Ye  canna'  please  him 
mair  than  by  gie'n'  him  a  job.  The  last  voyage  he  made  in  this 
verra  brig,  he  administered,  in  his  ignorance,  a  hale  pint  o'  castor 
oil  in  ain  dose  to  a  lad  on  board,  which  took  the  puir  fallow  aff  his 
legs  completely.  Anither  specimen  o'  his  medical  skill  was  gie'n 
ane  o'  his  crew  a  heapen  spun  fu'  o'  colomel,  which  he  mistook  for 
magnesia.  I  varilie  believe  that  he  canna'  spell  weel  eneugh  to 
read  the  directions  in  the  buik.  An'  is  it  to  sic  a  dunderheid  that 
the  lives  of  eighty-five  human  beings  are  to  be  entrusted  ?" 

Flora  was  highly  entertained  by  this  account  of  the  captain's 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


173 


nkill ;  while  the  doctor,  who  loval  to  hear  hhaself  talk,  contiimed 
in  a  more  impressive  ami  conftdcntiul  tone — 

*'  Now,  dlmm'  be  sao  ill  advised  as  to  be  takin'  phecsic  a'  tho 
time,  youu;]^  letldy.  If  ye  wu'd  keep  yersel  in  health,  persuade  tho 
captain  to  gie  ye  the  charge  o'  yon  kist  o'  poisons,  an'  tak'  the  first 
opportunity  to  drap  tho  key  by  accident  overboard.  Uy  sae  doin' 
ye  may  be  the  savin'  o'  your  ain  life,  an'  tho  lives  of  a'  the  humani- 
ties on  boord  the  brig  Anne." 

Flora  was  fond  of  a  little  amateur  doctoring.  To  part  with  tho 
medicine  chest,  she  considered,  would  be  a  great  sin,  and  she  wiw 
uhvudy  secretly  longing  to  overhaul  its  contents. 

A  few  well-established  remedies,  promptly  administered  in  simple 
cases  of  illness,  and  followed  by  the  recovery  of  the  patients,  had 
made  her  imagine  herself  quite  a  genius  in  the  healing  art;  and  she 
rejected  the  homely  little  doctor's  last  piece  of  advice  as  an  eccen- 
tric whim,  arising  either  from  ignorance  of  his  profession,  or  from 
disappointment  in  not  having  been  appointed  surgeon  to  the  brig. 

Doctor  MacAdie  was  neither  deficient  in  skill  nor  talent.  He 
was  a  poor  man,  of  poor  parentage,  who  hml  worked  hard  to  obtain 
liis  present  position,  and  provi<le  a  comfortable  liome  for  his  father 
and  mother  in  their  old  age.  His  practice  was  entirely  confined  to 
the  humble  walks  of  life,  and  he  was  glad  to  obtain  a  few  additional 
meals  for  a  large  family  by  inspecting  the  health  of  emigrants  pre- 
paratory to  their  voyage. 

In  this  case,  his  certificate  of  health  was  very  satisfactory  ;  and 
he  told  the  Captain  that  he  had  seldom  seen  a  heartier,  healthier 
"set  o'  decent  bodies  in  sic  a  sma'  vessel,"  and  he  pathetically 
entreated  him  not  to  tamjjcr  with  their  constitutions,  by  giving 
them  dangerous  drugs  whose  chemical  pntpertiia  he  did  not  under- 
stand, declaring  emphatically,  "  that  nature  was  the  best  ;;,'  esi- 
cian  alter  all."  The  Captain  considered  this  gratuitous  p  eco 
of  advice  as  an  insult,  for  he  very  gruflly  bade  Doctor  MacA  lio 
•'  Go  to  h —  and  take  care  of  his  own  patients  ;  he  wanted  none  >  tf 
his  impertinent  interference." 

The  little  doctor  drew  up  his  shoulders  with  an  air  of  profound 
contempt ;  then  taking  a  monstrous  pinch  of  snufi",  in  the  most 
sueezable  manner  from  his  old-fashioned  box,  he  shook  Mi's.  Lynd- 
Bay  kindly  by  the  hand,  and  wishing  her  and  her  gude  man  a  pros- 
perous voyage,  vanished  up  the  companion-ladder. 

Old  Boreas  shook  his  fist  after  his  retreating  figure.    '  •  You  d — d 


a^fta 


174 


FLORA    LYNP8AY. 


insignificant,  snufiy  little  coxcomb !  I'm  a  d — d  sight  better  doctor 
than  you  are.  If  the  govcrumeDt  sends  yoa  again,  poking  your 
long  nose  among  my  people,  I'll  make  a  surgical  case  for  you  to 
oxaminc  at  home  at  your  leisure,  I  will." 

In  order  to  divert  his  ill-humor,  Flora  inquired  at  what  hour  the 
ship  sailed. 

"  She  must  wait  for  that  which  never  yet  waited  for  mortal 
man — wind  and  tide.  It  will  be  midnight  before  we  get  under- 
weigh." 

Ijoreas  always  spoke  in  short  sentences.  He  was  a  man  of  few 
words,  rough,  ready,  and  eccentrically  blunt.  Had  his  talents  been 
proportioned  to  his  obst'nacy  of  will,  he  might  have  ruletl  over  larg 
communities,  instead  of  acting  the  petty  tyrant  on  the  deck  of  his 
small  craft. '  Eight  or  wrong,  he  never  gave  up  his  opiiiion  to  any 
one.  He  certainly  did  not  belong  to  the  "Aye,  Sir — very  trxu, 
Sir "  school  of  individuals,  who  would  resign  their  own  souls  to 
agree  with  their  superiors  in  rank  or  power.  If  there  was  a  being 
on  earth  that  he  despised  more  than  another,  it  was  a  sneak.  On 
one  occasion,  when  a  steerage  passenger,  in  order  to  curry  favor, 
was  prostrating  himself  before  him  after  this  fashion,  assuring  the 
Captiiin  "  that  his  thoughts  coincided  xadly  with  his  own,"  he 
burst  out  in  a  towering  passion  :  "  D —  you,  sir !  haven't  you  got 
an  opinion  of  your  own  ?  I  don't  want  such  a  sneaking  puppy  as 
you  to  think  my  thoughts  nnd  echo  ray  words.  I  should  despise 
myself,  if  I  thought  it  possible  that  we  could  agree  on  any  sub- 
ject." 

If  replly  oonvinceil  that  ho  was  wrong,  ho  would  show  it  by  a 
slight  diminution  of  his  ferocious  stubliorness  ;  but  would  never  ac- 
knowledge it  in  words.  If  he  gaineil  even  a  doubtful  advantage  over 
an  adversary,  he  rubbed  his  hands,  eluppe<l  his  knejs,  and  clmeklcd 
and  growled  out  his  satisfaction,  in  a  manner  peculiarly  his  own. 
lie  wa.s  only  tolerable  as  a  companion  after  taking  his  third  glass 
of  brandy  and  water  ;  and  as  he  commenced  these  humanizing  doses 
by  daybreak  in  the  morning,  repeating  them  at  stated  intervals  dur- 
ing the  four-and-twenty  hours,  by  noon  he  became  sociable  and 
entertaining ;  and  would  descend  from  his  anti-meridian  dignity,  and 
condescend  to  laugh  and  chat  in  a  dry,  humorous  style,  which,  if  it 
lacked  refinement,  was  highly  amusing. 

Though  an  invet(>rate  imbiber  of  alcohol,  he  was  never  posi- 
tively drunk  during  the  whole  voyage.    The  evil  spirits  sawed  to 


FLOTIA    LT^T>3AY. 


116 


fciakc  110  Impression  upon  the  iron  fiUros  of  his  stuMjorn  Lruin  and 
heart.  He  judged  his  nioi'ality  by  the  toughncsa  of  his  constitutiou. 
and  congratulated  biniseir  on  ])eiKg  a  sober  man,  wliile  he  coni- 
phiined  of  his  second  mate,  and  KligniatLsed  hlui  as  a  druiiken, 
Morthleps  fellow,  because  one  glass  of  puncii  made  him  intoxicated. 
This  is  by  bo  means  an  uncommon  thing  both  at  home  and  abroad ; 
and  men  condt.nn  others  more  for  v/aut  of  etj'cuirth  of  head,  than 
istreniitb  of  iiijart. 


ClfAPTl'R    XXVIJL 


Tin:    STATK    CAIIIX. 


Why  it  v,-as  called  so,  Flora  could  not  rinagrnc,  as  slie  retreated ' 
to  the  little  domicile  which  v.as  to  be  entirely  appropriated  to  her 
own  use.  It  was  a  very  snuiU  closet,  about  seven  feet  in  length, 
;ind  a  verv  little  l>roiider  than  it  was  louir.  It  contained  neither 
fitool,. bench,  i>or  chair,  and  there  wiu'.jmsI.  roojii  ofiough  after  clnsir)g 
the  door,  to  turn  round  and  undress.  The  top  of  a  large  chest  of 
painted  deal  drawers,  v/ith  a  raised  Ijoard  in  front,  and  screened  by 
laded  red  stuff  curtains,  formed  the  bed  ;  ior  v/hidi  lAudsa^'  had 
p'.irelut'Jcd  a  hair-matrcss  and  feather  pillows,  to  render  it  moi;» 
eonifortable  duriiig  the  voyage  foi*  his  wife  and  child.  Hut  it  was 
])erelied  up  at  such  an  nnreathabki  height  from  the  groiuul,  tlmt  the 
bed  was  on  a  level  wiUi  Mrs.  Lynd«wy's  chin.  Aftc  Hannah  had 
arranged  the  cletm  )ied<ling,  the  c;,'U'stion  naturally  suggested  itself, 
"  llow  in  the  world  shall  I  evei*  get  in?"  a?»d  ao  Flora  was  oce  of 
those  pei'soHS  who  never  kl't  dillKullies  to  be  encounter  ;d  at  t.  •■ 
last  moment,  slie  thought  it  would  lie  Ijetter  to  make  the  e.\i)eri- 
nient  by  daylight.  After  many  ineflirlJU-'l  attempts,  iji  which  she 
so  far  succeeded  that  the  braiheU  Iter  chin,  autl  knoeked  Ll;eskin  oft' 
one  of  her  kuees,  slie  gave  the  task  up  in  di'.>-pair. 

"  What  am  1  to  do,  Ifainiah  ?"  sIk;  said,  a{)pealing  to  her  atten- 
dant, in  a  tone  lutlf  laughing,  half  crying.  "It  would  re<|uire  tho 
long  legs  of  Curus  Wilson,  iho  I.iondou  giant,  to  rcacli  so  high. 
■Go  into  tLe  cabin  and  fetch  hither  a  chair." 

"  Why,  la,  Marm,  there  arn't  sucli  athing  as  a  chair  in  the  whole 
ship.  There's  nothing  to  set  on  but  them  liard  benches,  which  are 
enough  to  distruct  all  the  bones  in  your  body.  'J'liey  worn't  never 
jaiade  for  feuialoa,  tlnjm  benches — only  for  ru.le  sailor  fellers.,  whoso 


1 1 

It 


1T6 


FLORA     LYXDSAV. 


skin  is  as  hard  and  toun-h  as  rhi!Kx;orums.  "Wliy  it  tires  oiiQ  mon» 
to  sit  down  tluMi  ta  stand  up.  My  bacli  lialccs  ever  since  wc  conietl 
into  this  eonul  vciisc'l." 

"  Hut  tlio  cliild  and  I  can  never  bleep  here  as  nmttere  are  nt  pro 
sent.  11"  it  is  such  a  dlllicult  tliira^  to  get  to  bed  when  tlic  sliip  is 
at  anclior,  what  will  it  be  when  .she  is  phuiging  about  in  a  storm  ?" 

"  You  had  Ixitter  iiax  the  cajjting,  Marm.  Ho  must  know  th« 
pro|X)r  way  of  climbing  up,  lor  it  was  his  own  berth." 

"  It  will  seem  so  al)sunl.  He  may,  however,  have  a  step-ladder 
io  reach  it.  Go  to  him,  and  lusk  him,  with  my  compliments,  how 
lie  gets  into  Ix^d. 

iraim;ih  ix'tunu'd  luugliiug,  aiul  with  flushed  ch'.eks. 

"  Lu,  Mann,  he  stiys  "  tliat  he  gets  in  like  other  folk?*  fl  t4 
where  tlu're'^  a  will,  there's  aliTS  a  way."  An'  ho  burst  out  into 
Kuch  a  loud  roaviiui'  laugh  that  it  made  nte  feel  quite  ashamctf. 
Arter  he  had  had  Ids  fun  ai»l  wiped  his  eye — he  has  but  one,  you 
knows,  Marm — ho  cries  out — "I lout,  I.ks!  let  her  jest  make  u 
jliglit  ofsfcpM,  by  pulling  out  llie  drawers  one  ul)ove  another  for  u 
litUe  way  ;  tliey  answer  tlie  ])urJx)^e  of  stairs,  and  if  she's  in  down- 
riiiht  earnest  t'j  go  to  be;l,  :-iii;'ll  soon  Ir.irn  howtogct  in  ;  but  miu'" 
Klie  ilon't  knock  her  head  against  the  ceiling,  or  IV.I1  out  and  break 
lier  neck,  or  there'll  be  the  devil  to  jx^y  with  her  hu.sband,  and  no 
jiitch  hot.  And  tell  her,  las.^,  that  the  drawers  are  empty,  and  at 
licr  service  to  stow  aw.iy  all  her  little  traiw  ;  and  therxi's  n  cubhi^ 
//'V(?  jest  at  the  head  (\f  t|ie  Ixtl,  fis!l  of  books,  wljich  she  can  read 
Vihen  she  has  a  mind." 

Flora  was  highly  dclighied  with  tire  nsult  o'"  I lannalj  .^  message. 
Hhe  inmiediately  attemptetl  the  method  i)ropoBed  by  the  rough 
f^aiior,  and  after  a  tiial  or  two,  bccwnie  qnile  c.\pcn.  in  rolling  in 
and  oat  of  the  berth  ;  tiiough,  in  s[>iteof  the  warning  he  hod  given, 
fihc  1  apped  her  head  several  tinus  against  tho  low  cei'mjf,  which 
was  only  a  few  feel  above  her  pillow. 

.Siie  Mien  pn.)ccedcl  to  liil  the  larj^f,  dix'p  druivcrs  with  dothea 
for  herself  ami  Josey  during  the  vtryage,  and  had"  got  every! hing 
comfortal>ly  an'angcnl  l»cfore  night  closetl  in,  andshe  recei\-v<4asum- 
iin>ns  from  the  stewunl  that  "  t«?a  was  ready. "^ 

"That's  good  news,"  said  Hannah  ;  "I  fcKjlcfriiteraversomewith 
hunger,  and  if  I  don't  lay  in  a  gotnl  stock  to-night  I  shall  feel  bud 
enough  ttvmorrow  with  the  'orriil  sickness.  TImj  iXKxm^nt  the  sliip 
begins  to  heave,  I  shall  bo  hc;iving  too." 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


177 


"  Say  notliiiig  about  it,  Hannah—enjoy  yourself  while  you  can. 
Give  me  the  little  pocket-glass  out  of  my  trunk.  My  hair  is  all 
scattered  about  my  face." 

"Yes,  Marra,  you'd  better  tidy  up  a  bit,  for  there's  company  in 
the  cabin — not  'zactly  ladies,  but  kind  of  ladies,  such  as  Misses 
AVaddel  would  call  decent  folk.  Or:;  of  them  was  sitting  upon  tho 
Capting's  knee  when  I  weut  in,  and  drinking  punch  with  him  out 
of  the  same  gla.S8." 

'•  Very  decent  ladles,  truly,"  said  Flora,  doubtful  whether  to  mako 
one  of  such  a  refined  party.  Just  as  she  had  determined  to  remain 
where  she  waa  for  the  night,  Lyndsay  tapped  at  the  door,  and  sho 
culled  him  in  to  hold  a  consultation. 

"  Come  away,"  said  he,  laughing ;  "  it  is  only  the  captain's 
wife,  and  the  mate's,  with  two  of  their  sisters.  Nice,  good-tem- 
pered, natural  women,  who  will  behave  themselves  with  due  deco- 
rum. Old  lioreaa  will  be  quite  hurt  if  you  refuse  to  come  out  of 
your  den,  and  play  the  amiable  to  his  woman  folk." 

Flora  n>  longer  hesitatetl ;  she  took  Iier  husband's  arm,  and 
emerged  from  her  hiding-pli^*e  into  the  cabin,  which  now  presoutcil 
a  very  different  appearance  to  what  it  Isad  done  some  hours  before. 
All  the  confusion  of  trunks  and  packages  that  had  filled  up  the 
small  available  .'pace  had  been  removed,  and  it  looked  u.s  neat  and 
comfortable  as  8\ich  a  confined  crib  could  possibly  look  under  the 
most  favorable  cii c  n^it;inces. 

The  company,  consisting  of  four  smartly-dresse<l  young  women, 
were  ranged  along  the  bench  opposite  the  door  from  which  Flora 
made  her  debut.  They  regarded  her  with  a  nervous,  awkward  agi- 
tation, as  they  rose  simultaneously  and  dropped  as  low  a  courtt>sy 
as  the  narrow  space  between  the  bench  and  the  table  v.'ould  allow. 
Flora  returned  the  salutation  witii  a  distant  bow,  and  caught  a 
reproving  glance  from  her  husband.  The  ceremony  of  introfluciion 
thra  connncnced.  by  the  captain  rising  to  his  legs,  and  stretching 
out  his  red,  right  hand  with  an  air  of  dignity,  "  Mrs.  Lyndoiiy, 
cabin  passenger  in  the  brig  Anne — Mrs.  "Williams,  my  wife,  ma'am 
— Mrs.  Collins,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,— my  wife's  sister-in-law, — Miss 
Nancy  and  Betsey  Collins,  Mrs.  I.yndsay,-^Mr.  Collins,  my  first 
mate,  and  brother  to  Mrs.  Williams,  Mr::!.  livndsay." 

Then  came  the  shaking  of  hands,  which  we  fear  Mistress  Lynd- 
say performed  with  a  very  bad  grace,  for  she  had  not  as  yet  been 
seasoned  by  a  long  residence  in  a  semi-democratic  country,  wlioro 

8* 


178 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


people  get  o\'er  their  prejudices  regarding  superiority  of  blood 
and  brccKliDg,  and  must  not  only  shake  hands  with,  but  associate 
with  persons  on  an  equal  footing,  whom,  in  the  old  country,  they 
would  consider  vastly  ii.^ferior.  Lyndsay,  who  pitied  the  embar- 
rassment of  the  family  pai  ty  ar aembled  in  the  ca'jin,  rQceivod  them 
with  a  frank  courtesy,  which  soon  restored  confidence,  and  set 
them  at  their  cose,  though  it  was  diilicult  to  refrain  from  a  smile 
at  the  scared  look  they  cast  at  each  other  when  Mrs.  Lyndsay  took 
her  seat  among  them  ;  and  the  dead  silence  which  fell  upon  them, 
and  checked  the  lively  chattering  that  a  few  minutes  before  hud 
rung  through  the  cabin. 

Tec  ami  coffee  were  smoking  upon  the  table,  which  was  covered 
with  all  Bui  tc  '^f  dainties,  that  the  captain's  wife  Cad  brought  in 
a  basket  to  make  merry  v,ith,  and  which  she  proffered  to  the 
strangers  with  true  Scotch  hospitality,,  assuring  them  that  the  rich 
bun  and  short  bread  had  been  made  with  her  ain  hands,  as  u  little 
treat  for  Jock  before  leaving  the  country. 

"  Meg  forgets  that  I'm  a  "ough  English  sailor,  and  don't  care  a 
fig  for  her  Scotch  sunkets,"  quoth  Boreas,  speaking  with  his  mouth 
full  of  short  bread.  '*  A  goo<l  red  herring  and  a  slice  of  Glosttr 
cluKJsc  is  worth  them  all.  But  wilful  women  will  have  their  own 
way,  and  I  must  eat  the  mawkish  trash  to  please  her." 

"  An'  find  it  varra  gude,  Jock,  an'  I'm  no  mistaken,"  said  the 
buxom  fiiir-huircd  wonmn,  tapping  his  rough  cheek.  "It  wad  bo 
something  new  for  him  to  praise  onything  ni'ule  by  his  own  wife." 

And  then  she  rattled  away  about  the  inconstancy  of  men,  and 
of  sailors  especially,  in  such  a  droll,  provoking  manner,  that  she 
forced  her  rude  lord  to  lay  aside  his  dignity  and  laugh  at  her  non- 
Benso.  She  was  a  comely,  sonsy  damo,  neither  very  young,  nor 
very  pretty  ;  but  he  was  her  senior  by  many  years,  and  he  bore  her 
raillery  with  the  same  grace  that  a  staid  old  cat  submits  to  the 
impertinent  caresses  and  cuffs  of  a  frolicsome  kitten.  When 
he  growled  and  swore,  she  clapped  her  hands  and  laughed,  and 
called  him  her  dear  old  soa-bear,  and  hoped  that  he  would  not  die 
of  grief  during  her  absence. 

"  Never  fear,  Meg,  I  don't  mean  to  give  you  the  chance  of  tir- 
menting  another  fellow  out  of  his  wits.  I  shall  live  long  enough  to 
plague  you  yet." 

*' Ntt'  iloubt,"  said  Meg,  "which  thought  will  console  me  for 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


179 


yonr  aliscnce )  an'  I  sail  bo  as  merry  as  a  lark  until  you  return  to 
execute  your  threat." 

"  Meg,  you  are  a  diift  woman,"  said  Collins,  the  mate.  "  Tho 
captain  does  na'  half  like  your  teasing.  Can't  you  leave  him 
alone?" 

"  Mind  your  ain  buf-iness,  Wullie,  an'  take  care  of  your  ain  wife. 
I  canna'  play  the  i'ule  like  Jean,  wlia's  wliimpcvia'  by  herself  in  the 
i-orner." 

This  was  indeed  the  case.  Mrs.  Collins  had  only  been  married 
a  few  weeks,  and  the  p.utinj^  with  her  bridegroom  was  a  heart- 
hretiking  affair.  Thty  were  a  very  interesting  yoimg  couple ;  and 
tho  tall,  fair  girl  sat  apart  from  tho  rest  of  the  group,  nursing  an 
agony  of  fear  in  her  gentle  breast,  lost  her  Willie  should  b^' 
drowned,  and  slie  should  ncv-.T  sec  him  again.  She  made  despe- 
rate efforts  to  control  her  gi'iof,  and  conceal  '  r  icars  that  rolled  in 
quic-k  succession  down  her  pale  checks.  Collins  sprang  to  Ixi* 
side,  and  circling  her  sleiidiT  waist  with  his  manly  arm,  Axliispcred 
into  her  ears  loving  words,  full  of  hojio  and  comfort.  It  would 
not  do  ;  the  poor  girl  could  not  he  reconciled  to  the  s»^|v\ration, 
and  answL-^d  all  his  tender  endeiirmeiils  with  ln'.v.  :.iiod  sob.=, 
filling  the  cart  of  the  luver-husbaud  with  the  grief  tl«*t  bur- 
thencd  her  own. 

Collins  had  a  fine,  scnsi.tlt!  face,  though  it  had  been  consider- 
ably marred  by  the  snuvll-pox.  IHs  featnn  ;  were  straight  niid 
well  cut ;  his  hair  dark  and  curling ;  his  handsome  grey  eyes  full" 
of  manly  fire.  Though  not  exactly  a  gentleman,  he  po??ess(\l  high 
and  honorable  feelings,  and  his  fianlc  muiners  and  inde[)endent 
bearing  won  for  hiiu  the  good  wi!l  and  respect  of  all. 

Doubtless  Jean  thought  hint  the  handsomest  man  in  a"  Scotlatid, 
and  most  women  woidd  have  said  tli-vtiie  was  a  gocxl-Iooking,  diish- 
ing  sailor.  As  he  bent  over  Lis  disconsolate,  weeping  bride,  with 
such  affectionate  earnest  love  beaming  from  his  fine  I'vcs,  and  tried 
with  gentle  words  to  reconcile  lur  to  their  inevitable!  parting,  he 
affordeil  a  striking  cdutnust  to  his  superior,  who  regarded  a  lenipo- 
r;iry  absence  from  his  spouse  as  a  thing  of  course — a  mere  matter  of 
business,  which  he  bore  with  hia  'usual  afTeetation  of  stubborn  in- 
difference. 

FiHiling  that  her  presence  must  be  a  restraint  upon  the  family 
party,  the  moment  the  evening  meal  was  concluded  Flora  bade  thera 
good-night  and  retired  to  her  state  cabin  ;  and,  worn  oat  with  the 


*■-       1 


18=0 


li.OKA     LYXDS.IV. 


h; 


i 


latii^iie  of  the  Jay,  slio  umlressetl  ami  went  to  bed.  The  rain  was 
still  falling,'  heavily,  and  she  was  forcal  to  leave  hor  door  partly  uo- 
clo3ed  to  obtain  a  little  air,  for  the  heat  was  oppressive  in  the  close 
confined  berth.  For  a  lon;:^  time  she  lay  awake — now  thinkinj,^  sad 
thoughts  and  shedding,'  sadder  tears — now  listening  to  the  hum  of 
voices  in  the  outer  cabin,  broken  occasionally  by  songs  and  merry 
bursts  of  laughter. 

The  Captain's  wife  and  her  sistei-s,  she  found,  were  on  their  way 
to  Anstcr  fair,  which  was  to  be  he)d  on  tlu;  nwrruw,  at  which  place 
they  were  to  be  put  on  whore.  And  she  remembered  the  old  son;* 
of  >[aggie  Lauder,  and  her  encounter  with  the  piper  on  her  way  to 
that  celebratcHl  tiiir :  u!id  was  not  a  little  amused  to  hear  olil  BoreaH, 
as  if  he  had  read  her  tlioughts,rour  out  the  national  ditty  in  a  hoarse, 
deep  voice,  as  rough  and  unmusical  as  a  norwester  piping  among 
the  shrouds. 

As  i]iii  reelin(Hl  on  her  pillow,  she  could  just  see,  through  a  small 
ai)ertur(!  in  the  red  curtains  that  concealed  l;er  iierson  from  obser- 
vation, tlie  party  gathered  around  IIr-  rul)in  table. 

The  eaplain's  wile  wtw  seated  on  his  knee,  and  Ji'an's  jjaie  cheek 
resttnl  on  her  bridegivwui's  n>anly  breast.  Ohl  lloreos  was  in  his 
glury,  for  the  braiidy  Jwttle  was  before  him,  asid  he  was  insisting 
upon  the  ladies  faking  a  glass  of  punch,  and  drinking  success  to 
the  voyage.  'J'his  they  all  did  with  a  very  good  grace ;  even  the 
l»ensive  Jean  sipping  occa>i()na!ly  IV>)iu  her  husljund'a  tuml^ler. 

'^riie  captain's  wile  begun  teasing  him  fur  a  fairing,  which  ho 
very  bluntly  refused  to  Itestow.  Slie  called  in  th.e  aid  of  Miss 
i^aney  and  Betsy,  and  they  charged  down  upon  him  with  su'-h  a 
din  of  voice.?,  that  t!ic  jolly  tar  emptied  the  contents  of  his  leathern 
purse  into  Meg's  lap,  who  clutched  the  silver,  and  kissed  him,  and 
clappi-d  his  briud  buck,  and  laughed  like  a  child. 

J{y-iuul-]»y  lie  v\';n  fjreed  to  leave  her  t>-  go  upon  deck  ;  when  she 
ro.se,  and  went  to  her  brotlu  r,  and  laying  her  hand  upon  his  shoid- 
der,  addre*'sed  him  in  a  manner  so  si-,  ious*.  so  dilU-rent  from  her  for- 
in:^r  deportmeiit,  that  Flora  could. searecly  believe  it  was  tlivt  sailo 
person  that  now  spoke. 

"  Wullie,  ye  maun  promise  ..c  lo  kivp  a  glide  look-out  on  Jock 
during  the  voyage.  He's  jest  k'llin' o' himsel  wi' drink.  Canna' 
ye  persuade  him  to  gie  it  up  ava  ?" 

The  mate  shook  his  head.  *'  Ye  ken  the  ma'n,  Maggie.  Ho 
wall  gang  his  ain  gate." 


FLORA     LYXDSAY. 


181 


Maggie  pighcd  hoavily.  "  It's  a  puir  look  out  for  his  wife  an* 
11)0  twa'  weans.  He'll  no  leave  it  aft*  for  our  sakcs.  But  yo 
maun  put  in  a  word  o'  fidviec  now  and  then." 

•'  It's  of  na'  use,  Slaf^gie.  He's  as  obstinate  as  a  brute  bcsu^t. 
If  he  wuU  na'  do  it  for  your  sake  and  the  bairns— he'll  no  bo 
convinced  by  word  o'  mine.  I'm  thinkin',  that  opposition  on  that 
held  wud  do  niair  harm  than  gude." 

"  An'  then,  they  women  folk— WuUie.  He's  na'  to  be  trusted. 
Wi'  him — out  o'  sight  is  out  o'  mind.  He  never  thinks  o'  his  wife 
at  hamc  the  moment  he  puts  out  to  sea." 

•'  Dinna'  be  sae  jealous,  woman.  Ha'  ye  na'  faith?"  said  Col- 
lins, pressing  Jean  closer  to  his  heart.  "  Do  you  think  that  sailors 
ar'  wa*  than  ither  men  ?" 

"  Ye  are  a'  alike,"  sighed  Meg,  "  though  doubtless  Jean  thinks 
ye  wull  ever  oG  true  to  her,  an'  keep  your  eyes  shut  when  you  pasa 
a  pretty  lass  for  her  sake.     I  ken  you  better." 

"  I  were  nac  wortliy  to  Ix)  your  brither's  wife,  Jraggie,  an'  I 
doubted  his  honesty,"  said  Jean,  indignantly,  as  she  liftinl  her  long, 
fair  curls  from  her  husband's  breiust,  and  regarde<l  him  with  a 
glance  of  profound  devotion.  "If  ye  had  niair  faith  in  Jock, 
he  wu'd  be  a  better  num." 

"  It's  early  days  wi"  ye  yet,  Jean  ; — wait  a  wee  while  afore  yo 
find  faut  wi'  yer  eldera.  WuUic  weel  kens  that  I'm  na'  mistruslfu' 
wi'out  cause." 

Flora  did  not  hear  the  mate's  reply :  sleep  weighed  heavily  ii])on 
her  eyelids,  and  she  dropjied  off  into  profound  repose. 


I   I 


CHAPTKR    XXIX. 


FLORA  S     FKLLOW-I'ASSE.NGKUP. 

'I'uR  grey  dawn  glimmertd  faintly  through  the  bull's-eye  of 
ground  glass  in  the  ceiling  of  Mrs.  Lyndsay's  cabin,  before  slio 
again  unclosed  her  eyes.  She  sat  up  in  her  berth  and  steadied  her- 
self, glancing  at  first  wonderingly  around  her,  and  marvelling  where 
she  wac.  The  heaving  of  the  vessel,  and  the  (juick  rushing  of  the 
waves  against  her  sides,  infornii.d  her  that  the  ship  had  sailed 
during  the  night,  and  recalled  to  her  mind  the  events  of  the  past 
diiy. 


182 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


The  voyage,  whether  for  good  or  ill,  hud  conimencccl ;  and  tho 
certainty  of  her  present  position  relieved  her  mind  of  a  hea,vy  bur- 
den of  anxiety.  She  rose  and  dressed  herself,  and  earnestly,  upon 
her  knees,  besought  the  Almighty  to  protect  them  from  the  perils 
and  dangers  of  tho  deep,  and  watch  over  them  for  good  during 
their  passage  across  the  mighty  waters.  Nor  were  her  fellow- 
passengers,  although  unknown  to  her,  forgotten  in  her  petition  to 
the  general  Father.  Strengthened  and  refreshed  by  this  .ict  of 
devotion,  she  felt  her  spirits  revive  and  her  heart  expand  with 
reneww]  cheerfulness  and  hope,  and  trustfully  believed  that  God 
bad  given  a  favorable  answer  to  her  prayer. 

Early  as  the  hour  was,  she  found  watchful  eyes  awake  in  the 
ship.  The  Captain  was  already  on  deck,  and  Sam  Frascr,  the 
steward,  a  smart  lad  of  eighteen,  was  cleaning  out  tho  cabin.  Tho 
boards  felt  cold  and  wet,  and  Flora,  who  was  anxious  to  sec  all 
she  could  of  the  coast  of  Scotland,  hurried  upon  deck,  where  she 
found  her  husband  up  before  her,  and  convei-sing  with  the  Cap- 
tain. 

The  Anne,  with  all  her  white  sails  set,  was  scudding  before  a 
favorable  wind,  which  whistled  aloft  strange  solemn  anthems  in 
the  shrouds.  'I'lie  sun  had  just  climbed  above  the  mountain-heights, 
that  f(;rmotl  a  glorious  .background  to  the  blue,  glancing  waters, 
over  whicli  the  ship  glided  like  a  thing  of  life.  It  was  a  splendid 
July  morning,  and  the  white-crested  billows  flashed  and  rolled  their 
long  sparkling  surges  beneath  a  sky  of  c'oudlcvss  brilliancy ;  and  all 
nature  glowed  with  life  and  beauty,  is  land  and  sea  looked  up 
rejoicingly,  to  hail  tho  broad,  open  C)e  of  day. 

"  'Twas  heaven  above — around — bolow." 

The  ron\antic  features  of  the  coast,  with  all  the  poetical  and 
historical  associations  connected  with  it — tho  deep  music  of 
ocean — the  very  smell  of  the  salt  brine,  filled  the  heart  of  Flora 
Lyndsay  with  hope  and  joy.  To  have  gazed  upon  such  a  soul- 
Btirring  scene,  with  a  mind  burdened  with  painful  regrets,  would 
Imve  been  an  act  of  impiety  towards  the  bountiful  Creator,  whose 
presence  is  never  more  fully  recognised  than  when  following  the 
course  that  His  wisdom  has  shaped  out  for  us  across  that  pathless 
wilderness  of  waves — that  wonderful  mirror  of  llis  power,  which, 
"whether  in  storm  or  shine,  faithfully  reflects  the  glory  and  great- 
ness of  its  Maker. 


n.ORA    LYNDSAY. 


183 


With  returning  health  and  spirits,  Flora's  mind  recovered  its 
former  tone ;  slie  felt  not  only  contented,  but  Imppy,  and  submitted 
herself  with  child-like  confidence  to  the  protecting  care  of  the  Uni- 
versal Father. 

•'  All,  doubtless,"  she  thought,  "  is  ordained  fur  the  best.  If 
not  for  as,  for  our  children.  Others  have  toiled  for  us ;  it  is  but 
meet  that  we  should  toil  in  our  turn.  It  is  to  the  workers,  not  to 
the  dreamers,  that  earth  opens  up  her  trepures.  Life  is  beset  with 
trials,  take  which  path  we  may.  The  brightest  sky  at  times  is 
darkened  by  clouds  ;  the  calmest  ocean  vexed  with  storms.  What 
matters  it  that  we  are  called  upon  to  bear  the  burden  and  heat  of 
the  day,  if  we  receive  the  reward  of  our  jabora  at  night?  If  the 
sunset  is  fair  and  peaceful,  who  recalls  the  tempest  that  darkened 
the  heavens  at  noon  ?  The  quiet  grave  recdives  all  at  last ;  and 
those  who  have  worked  hardest  on  earth,  will  find  a  brighter 
morning  for  their  eternal  holiday  of  love  and  praise." 

"  What  are  you  thinking  of,  Flora?"  said  Lyndsay,  drawing  her 
arm  within  his  own. 

"  I  was  thinking,  dearest,  that  it  was  good  to  be  here." 

"  Your  thoughts,  then,  were  an  echo  of  my  own.  P'^pend  upon 
it,  Flora,  that  we  shall  find  it  all  right  at  last." 

For  a  long  time  they  stood  together,  silently  surveying  the  mag- 
nificent coast  that  was  rapidly  gliding  from  them.  Lyndsay's  soul- 
lighted  eyes  rested  proudly  upon  it,  and  a  shade  of  melancholy 
passed  across  his  brow.  It  wiis  his  native  land,  and  he  deeply  felt 
that  he  looked  upon  its  stern,  majestic  face  for  the  last  time.  But 
he  was  not  a  man  who  could  impart  the  inner  throbbings  of  his 
heart  (and  it  was  a  greil  heart)  to  others.  Such  feelings  he  con- 
Bidei'al  too  sacred  to  unveil  to  common  observation — and  even  she, 
the  wife  of  his  bosom,  could  only  read  by  the  varying  expression 
of  his  countenance  the  thoughts  that  were  working  williin. 

*'  Courage,  my  dear  Flora,"  he  said  at  length,  with  one  of  his 
own  kind  smiles.  "  All  will  be  well  in  the  end,  and  we  shall  still 
be,  happy  in  each  other's  love.  Yes — us  happy  in  the  backwoods 
of  Canada  as  we  have  been  in  England." 

Flora  felt  that  with  him  she  could  be  happy  anywhere — that 
paradise  would  be  a  prison,  if  his  presence  did  not  enliven  and  give 
interest  to  the  scene. 

Few  of  the  emigrants  had  found  their  way  to  the  deck  at  that 
early  hour ;  and  for  some  time  Flora  enjoyed  a  charming  tilt-d-lit* 


! 


1 


184 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


with  her  htisbanrl.  Gradually  the  dock  grew  more  popidons ;  and 
men  were  scon  loiinjrin^  against  the  bulwarks,  smoking  thoir  pipes, 
or  performing  thoir  aldutions — a  wooden  tub  and  ounvass  bucket 
Borviug  them  fi»r  hand-basin  and  walor-jug'.  'J'hon  commoncod  tho 
grout  business  of  cooking  tlic  morning  meal ;  and  Hannibal,  tho 
black  lord  of  tho  caboose,  w:us  besot  by  a  host  of  scolding,  jabber- 
ing women,  all  fighting  and  (luarrolling  for  tho  first  chanco  at  the 
Btovc.  He  took  tlieir  abuse  very  coolly,  settling  the  dispute  by 
making  the  auld  wives  draw  lots  for  j)recodonco.  They  con;«.»nted 
to  this  arrangement  with  a  very  biul  gnvco.  Not  more  than  four 
kettles  could  occupy  tho  fire  at  one  tinii^ ;  and  though  sonu;  clubbo«l, 
and  made  thoir  me:w  of  porridge  together  in  one  largo  pot,  tho  rest 
grumbled  and  stjuabblod  during  the  whole  oponifion,  elbowing  and 
crowding  for  morerooni,  and  trying  to  push  each  other's  coflee  and 
teapots  into  the  fire.  And  then,  all  in  a  breath,  at  tho  very  top  of 
thoir  shrill  voices,  appealed  to  Huinilbal  to  act  as  lunpirc  among 
them,  ami  establish  thoir  claims  to  the  best  side  of  tho  fire ;  his 
answer  wius  brief  and  to  the  ])olnt — 

•'  Dero  be  dis  fire.  You  hub  him  in  so  lonj^.  Him  wait  for  no 
one.  Your  time  up.  You  take  ofl*  pot,  or  1  pitch  pot  into  sea. 
Others  must  oat  as  well  as  you  ;  so  ket^p  yoin*  breath  to  cool  your 
porridge  ;  and  if  that  no  suit  you,  fight  it  out — fight  it  out !" 

And  here  he  flom-ishod  over  thoir  heads  his  iron  ladle,  full  of  some 
Bcalding  Tuiuor,  which  silenced  the  condjatants  for  one  whilf,  until  a 
now  sot  of  a[)plicants  emerging  from  tho  gangway,  made  them  rush 
more  vigorously  than  ever  to  the  charge. 

As  Flora  continued  pacing  the  dock^nd  watching  the  noisy 
group  round  the  cooking-stove,  she  felt  n^miall  degree  of  curiosity 
rospectiug  thom.  Rude  and  unpolished  as  they  appeared  to  be, 
they  w(  re  yet  her  follow-voyngors  to  that  uidcnown  land  to  which 
all  their  hopes  and  fears  instinctively  turned  ;  and  she  could  scarcely 
regard  with  indiHerence  those  whom  Providence  had  thrown 
together  in  pursuit  of  the  same  object.  8ho  wanteil  to  know  some- 
thing about  thom  from  their  own  lips — what  their  past  lives  had 
boon,  what  wore  their  future  prospects,  and  the  causi's  that  had  led 
them  to  emigrate  to  Canada.  Perhaps  something  of  the  same  fool- 
ing is  experienced  by  most  pereons  suddeidy  thrown  together  and 
confinetl  for  some  weeks  in  such  a  narrow  space  as  the  interior  of  a 
small  brig — for  the  Am^  contained  more  passengers  for  her  size  and 
tonnage  than  many  large,  three-masted  vessels.    During  tho  long 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


18:5 


roya^  her  curiosity  was  amply  grotiBcil,  and  slie  learnetl  sonietiiiii^ 
of  the  history  and  chuructcrs  of  most  of  tlicsf  people.  First,  tliero 
was  an  old  liij^hhind  soldier,  wlio  ha<l  served  duriiif^tlie  gretktcr 
part  of  tlio  I'eninsidur  war,  aikl  had  seen  a  {,'1x^1  deal  of  Imrd 
serviee,  and  received  a  nuniber  of  liard  Icuocks  in  tlie  way  of 
wounds  and  broken  bones,  of  wl»ich — now  the  pain  aiul  danger  was 
over — l>o  was  not  a  lUtle  proud,  as  they  formed  a  uevcr-ending 
them  of  boustin;?  and  Belf-exaltation  ;  and  Imd  honest  Donald  Mac- 
donald  chargetl  liis  fellow-passengt^ra  a  penny  a  peep  at  tlie  scars  on 
his  legs,  breast,  and  anns,  lie  miglit  have  made  enough  to  pay  tlio 
exiKMisos  of  his  pa'<.'<age  out.  "  His  wounds,"  lie  said,  "  wen;  all  in 
the  right  place.  IIo  was  too  well-bred  to  turn  his  back  to  an 
enemy." 

Mucdonald  was  one  of  the  many  unfortunate  old  pensioners,  who 
had  been  inchiced  to  part  with  a  certain  provision  for  his  old  age, 
to  try  his  fortunes  in  tlio  backwoods  of  Canada. 

He  kiiLW  as  little  of  hard  labor  as  any  oflicer  in  his  regiment, 
still  less  of  agricultural  pursuitvS,  and  perhaps  could  barely  have  told 
the  dilference  between  one  sort  of  grain  and  another,  having  entered 
the  army  a  mere  boy,  (juite  raw  and  ine.\}ierienced,  from  his  native 
hills. 

He  had  a  wife,  and  five  rude,  brawny,  coarse  children — tlie  throe 
eldest  girls  from  seven  to  fourteen  years  of  age.  "  They  were  not 
of  the  right  sort,"  he  said  ;  "  but  they  were  strong  enough  for  boys, 
and  would  make  fine  mothers  for  dragoons,  to  serve  in  case  of  war." 

Jiut  as  (/anada  is  not  at  all  a  belligerent  country,  tliese  qualifi- 
cations in  his  bouncing,  red  haired  lassies,  were  no  reeconiniedation. 

'I'lio  two  siwilt  boys  w«ro  still  in  short  coats,  and  could  alford 
little  help  to  their  veteran  father  for  many  years  to  come. 

Donald  had  forine<l  the  most  extravagant  notions  of  Canada.  In 
his  t'ves  it  was  a  perfect  Kl  Donvdo,  wlu^re  gold  was  as  pliintiftil  as 
blaelvberries  upon  llie  bushes.  He  never  seemed  to  have  given  tlio 
iiloa  of  having  to  work  for  his  living  a  thought — and  he  laughed 
at  a  notion  so  disagreeable  and  repugnant  to  his  okl  habits,  aa 
absurd — 

"  Wha'  was  the  use  of  ganffing  to  a  new  country,"  lie  said,  "  if 
a  bodie  had  to  work  as  hard  there  as  in  the  auld  ?" 

After  paying  his  passage-money,  and  providing  provisions  for 
the  voyage,  ho  had  only  the  sum  of  nineteen  pounds  remaining, 
which  he  considered  au  iucxhaustiblo  fund  of  wealth,  from  which 


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23  WEST  MAIN  STREET 

WEBSTER,  NY.  14580 

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FLORA    LYXDSAT. 


lie  was  to  obtain,  not  only  a  comfortable  living  in  the  land  of  prom- 
ise, but  an  independent  fortune.  He  was  entitled  to  a  grant  of 
land,  which  he  said,  "  would  make  him  a  laird,  and  place  Lim  on  an 
GQual  footing  with  the  lairds  in  the  backwoods  of  Canada." 

Flora  often  wondered,  in  after  3'ears,  what  became  of  poor  Mac- 
donald  and  all  his  high-flown  dreams  of  future  greatness. 

The  wife  of  the  old  soldier  was  a  tall,  raw-boned,  red-fisted  vira- 
go, who  fought  with  both  fists  and  tongue.  She  scmed  to  live  in  a 
perfect  element  of  strife ;  a  quarrel  couM  not  exist  in  the  ship  with- 
out her  being  either  the  original  causCj  or  the  active  promoter  of 
it,  after  it  was  once  set  on  foot.  She  would  bully  the  captain,  OHt 
ewear  the  sailors,  and  out-scold  all  the  rest  of  the  fenialities  in  the 
vessel. 

The  daughter  of  a  soldier,  born  amidst  the  horrors  of  war,  and 
brought  up  as  a  camp  followei%  her  ignorance  of  all  the  gentloj* 
humanities  of  life  was  only  excecdt-t!  by  her  violence.  While  assist- 
ing in  pillaging  the  dead,  after  the  '^uttlc  of  Waterloo,  she  had  found 
the  sum  of  a  hundred  gold  Xapol.ions  concealed  in  a  belt  upon  the 
person  of  a  dead  French  officer.  This  made  her  a  woman  of  for- 
tune, and  led  to  her  marriage  with  her  present  husband  ;  for  she, 
like  the  woman  of  Samaria,  had  had  several,  who  doubtless  were 
glad  to  be  released  by  death  from  the  unnatural  tyranny  of  such  a 
mate.  Macdonald  was  an  e^sy,  good-natureil  man,  who,  for  the  sake 
of  peace,  let  the  wilful  woman  have  her  own  way,  and  thrash  him 
and  the  bairns  as  often  as  the  wicked  spirit  by  which  she  was  pon- 
Bessed,  prompted  her  to  exhibit  thase  peculiar  marlcs  of  her  con- 
jugal and  maternal  love. 

Had  Macdonald  been  asked  why  he  submitted  to  such  base  treat- 
ment from  his  wife,  he  might  have  answered  with  the  tall  Canadian 
backwoodsman,  when  questioned  on  the  same  subject-;— 

"  It  pleases  her,  and  it  don't  hurt  I." 

Mrs.  Macdonald  was  in  a  delicate  situation,  and  from  the  very 
day  the  ship  sailed,  she  gave  out  that  she  was  on  the  eve  of  an 
increase  to  her  interesting  family — to  the  great  indignation  of  the 
Captain,  who  had  a  mortal  antipathy  to  babies;  and  he  declared,  in 
his  rough  way,  "  That  it  was  animposition  ;  Mrs.  ^Macdonald  had 
no  right  to  swindle  him  into  taking  out  more  passengers  than  ho 
had  bargained  for. 

The  stalwart  dame  was  enchanted  that  she  had  found  out  a  way 
to  annoy  the  Captain,  to  whose  orders  she  was  forced  to  submit. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


18t 


and  whom,  in  consequence,  slie  regarded  as  a  bitter  enemy,  and  slio 
did  all  in  her  power  to  encourage  his  fears  respecting  her.  When, 
ever  he  paced  tlie  deck  in  sullen  dignity,  she  began  to  sigh  and 
groan,  and  declare,  in  a  voice  loud  enough  for  him  to  overhear, 
"that  she  did  na'  think  that  she  could  baud  out  anither  day  ava." 

There  was  another  pensioner  on  board,  who  was  the  sworn  friend 
and  countryman  of  Macdonald.  Hugh  Mackenzie  was  a  dragoon, 
and  a  fine,  tall,  soldierly-looking  man.  His  wife  was  a  little, 
chatty,  gossipping  woman,  from  Berwickshire.  A  good  creature 
in  her  way,  but  sadly  addicted  to  the  use  of  strong  waters,  drown- 
ing the  little  sense  she  had  in  the  fumes  of  whiskey  and  brandy. 
She  and  her  husband  St)ent  all  their  time  in  eating  and  drinking, 
when  they  were  not  taking  snuff  and  smoking.  They  were  cook- 
ing, or  preparing  for  it,  from  morning  till  night ;  and  generally 
lieaded  the  forlorn  hope  that  three  times  a  day  besieged  the  car- 
boose,  and  defied  the  valiant  Aanibal  to  his  very  teeth. 

Mrs.  Mackenzie  was  the  very  reverse  of  her  good  friend,  Mrs. 
Macdonald,  for  she  stood  in  perpetual  fear  of  her  tall  husband,  who 
thrashed  her  soundly  when  she  got  drunk  ;  moreover,  she  was  very 
jcaious  of  all  the  young  women  in  thc^  ship,  whom  she  termed 
"  Lazy,  bold,  gude-for-naught  hizzies,  who  wud  na'  led  a'  bodies 
man  alane." 

She  would  sit  for  hours  on  deck  smoking  a  short,  black  pipe,  and 
crooning  old  border  ballads,  in  a  voice  anything  but  musical. 

During  Flora's  long  morning  promenade  upon  deck,  she  more 
than  once  caught  a  pair  of  yellow,  qucer-1  oolong  eyes  peering  at 
her  from  beneath  the  shade  of  one  of  the  boats  that  were  slung  to 
the  main-mast,  and  by-and-by,  a  singularly  disagreeable  looking 
head  raised  itself  from  a  couch  of  cloaks,  and  continued  its  investi- 
gation in  a  very  impertinent  and  intrusive  manner.  The  head 
belonged  to  a  little  man  in  a  snuff-colored  suit,  whose  small,  pert, 
pugnacious  face,  eyes,  hair  and- complexion,  were  only  a  variety  of 
the  same  shades  as  the  dress  in  which  he  had  cased  his  outer  man. 
Flora  quietly  pointed  him  out  to  her  husband,  and  asked,  in  a  whis- 
j)er,  "  What  he  thought  of  the  little  brown  man  ?" 

"His  appearance  is  not  at  all  prepossessing,"  said  Lyndsay. 
"  I  will  ask  the  Captain,  who  is  coming  this  way,  who  and  what 
he  is  ?" 

The  question  seemed  to  embarrass  old  Boreas  not  a  little.  Ho 
threw  a  frowning  glance  towards  the  spot  occupied  by  the  stranger, 


188 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


shrugged  his  shoulders,  whistled  a  tune,  and  thrusting  his  hands 
into  hi8  breeches'  pockets,  took  several  turns  on  the  deck  before  he 
made  any  reply.  Until  seeing  the  snuil-colored  individual  about  to 
crawl  out  of  his  hiding-place,  he  called  out,  in  a  grulf  voice — 

"  Keep  where  you  are,  sir — the  longer  you  remain  out  of  sight 
the  butter.  13y  exposing  yourself  to  observation,  you  may  cause 
trouble  to  more  persons  tlian  one/" 

The  person  thus  unceremoniously  addressed,  smiled  malignantly, 
and  retreating  beneath  the  shade  of  the  bout,  snarled  out  some 
reply,  only  audible  to  the  Captain  ;  whose  advice  did  not,  however, 
seem  lost  upon  him,  for  after  the  Lyndsays  had  taken  another  .turn 
or  two,  and  he  had  glared  at  them  with  his  little  tiery  eyes  suffi- 
ciently to  gratify  his  insolent  curiosity,  he  again  emerged  from 
under  the  boat,  and  succeeded  in  tumbling  into  it — and  drawing  a 
part  of  a  spare  sale  over  his  diminutive  person,  he  vanished  as  com- 
pletely from  sight  as  if  the  ocean  had  suddenly  swallowed  him  up. 

"  I  was  a  d d  fool !"'  nuittered  the  Captain,  returning  to  Lyiid- 

Bay's  side,  "  to  let  that  fellow,  with  his  ugly,  sneering  phiz,  come  on 
board,  liut  as  he  is  here,  I  must  make  the  best  of  a  bad  bargain. 
You  will  not  peach,  so  111  just  give  you  a  bit  of  his  history,  and 
explain  the  necessity  of  his  keeping  close  until  we  are  out  of  the 
Bight  of  land.  Hang  hiu: !  iha  ugly  phiz  is  enough  to  sink  the 
ijliip.  Had  I  seen  him  before  he  came  on  board,  he  might  have  rot- 
ted in  jail  before  1  took  charge  of  his  carcase ;  and  then,  'tis  such 
u  conceited  as.>,  he  will  take  no  advice,  and  cares  us  little  for  liis 
own  safety  as  he  does  for  mine." 

"  Is  he  a  runaway  felon?"  asked  Flora. 

"  You  have  not  made  a  bad  guess.  Mistress  Lyndsay.  He  was 
a  distiller,  who  carrie^l  on  a  good  business  in  l']dinburgh.  Ho 
cheated  the  government,  and  was  cashiered  for  a  large  sum — more 
than  he  could  pay  by  a  long  chalk,  ills'  friends  contrived  his 
escape,  and  smuggled  him  on  board  last  night,  just  as  the  anchor 
was  being  weighed.  They  oQ'ered  me  a  handsome  sum  to  carry 
him  to  Quebec ;  and  should  he  be  discovered  by  any  of  the  pas- 
sengers before  we  lose  sight  of  the  British  coast,  he  would  bo 
Bei'',ed  when  the  ship  puts  into  Kirkwall,  and  it  would  be  a  bad 
job  for  us  both.  The  transaction  is  entirely  between  his  friends 
and  me ;  Mr.  Gregg  knows  nothing  about  it." 

*'  And  are  we  to  have  the  pleasure  of  his  company  in  tjic  cabin 
during  the  voyage  ?'* 


for 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


189 


"  That  would  bo  bad  indeed.  No,  he  has  a  berth  provided  for 
him  in  the  store-room,  and  has  the  privilege  of  having  his  grub 
sent  to  him  from  the  cabin-table,  and  the  use  of  the  tea  and  coffee- 
pot after  we  have  done  with  it.  This  is  quite  good  enough  for  a 
rogue  like  him.  But  I  hear  Sam  Frazer  hallowing  for  breakfast. 
Come  down  to  the  cabin,  Mrs.  Lyndsay ;  the  sea  air  must  have 
made  you  hungry." 

"  Indeed,  I  am,  captain,  and  mean  to  do  ample  justice  to  your 
eea  fare."        <  ^         " 

The  little  cabin  was  in  apple-pie  order.  A  clean  diaper  cloth 
covered  the  ttible,  on  which  the  common  crockery  cups  and  saucers 
were  arranged  with  mathematical  precision,  while  the  savory  smell 
of  fried  fish  and  hot  coffee  promiped  the  hungry  emigrants  a  sub- 
stantial breakfast. 

On  inquiring  for  Hannah  and  James  Hawkc,  Flora  found  that 
both  were  confined  to  their  berths  with  sea-sickness.  Old  Boreas 
complimented  her  not  a  little  on  her  being  able  to  appear  at  the 
breakfiust  table.  The  fish  proved  excellent — the  coffee,  a  black, 
bitter  compound,  which  Flora  drank  with  a  very  ill  grace.  Tho 
captain,  with  an  air  of  exultation,  produced  from  his  own  private 
cupboard,. which  formed  the  back  pannelling  of  his  berth,  a  great 
stone  jar  of  milk,  which  his  wife  had  prepared  with  sugar  to  last 
him  the  voyage.  ' 

"  Have  you  no  cow  on  board  ?"  asked  Flora,  rather  anxiously ; 
for  little  Josey  and  her  comfort  were  always  uppermost  in  her 
mind. 

"  Cow !  Who  the  devil  would  be  bothered  with  a  cow,"  said 
Boreas,  "  when  he  can  procure  a  substitute  like  this  ?  Here's  my 
dun  cow,  she'l!  give  us  what  we  want,  without  the  trouble  of  milk- 
ing. Won't  she,  Sam  ?"  appealing  ;,o  his  steward  to  second  hi.s 
assertion. 

"  Yes,  sir  ;"  and  Sam  grinned  applause.  "  But  I'm  jist  think- 
in',  Coptain,  that  the  weather's  o'er  hot,  an'  the  dun  cow  may  gang 
drie  afore  we  see  Canada." 

The  captain's  cow  turned  out  a  very  sorry  animal ;  for  in  less 
than  two  days,  the  milk  was  so  putrid  that  it  had  to  be  thrown 
overboard,  and  his  cabin  passengers  were  forced  to  drink  the  vile 
coffee,  and  still  viler  tea,  without  milk  during  the  rest  of  the 
voyage,  with  only  coarse  brown  sugar  to  soften  its  disagreeable 
flavor. 


190 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


It  must  be  confessed  that  the  cabin  bill  of  fare  presented  no 
tempting  variety.  After  the  first  week,  the  fresh  mutton  and  beef 
were  changed  to  salt  pork  and  hard  junk,  ship  biscuit  and  peas,  and 
potatoes  of  the  last  year's  growth,  rancid  butter,  and  oatmeal  por- 
ridge, with  porter  and  brown  sugar  for  sauce — and  sometimes,  but 
this  was  a  very  great  dainty — a  slice  of  Dunlop  cheese.  Nothing 
bat  hunger,  and  constant  exercise  upon  the  deck  in  the  open  air, 
reconciled  Mrs.  Lyndsay  to  this  coarse  diet.  It  was  not  what 
they  had  been  promised,  but  complaints  were  useless.  There  cer- 
tainly was  no  danger  of  hurting  their  health  by  over-indulgence, 
as  it  was  with  diflficulty  they  could  satisfy  their  hunger  with  the 
unpalatable  fare,  which  was  old,  and  not  even  good  of  its  kind. 

The  Lyndsays  were  always  glad  when  the  homely  meal  was  over, 
and  they  could  escape  once  more  to  the  deck,  and  enjoy  the  fine 
coast  views  and  the  fresh,  invigorating  sea  breeze. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 


-.A  f 


TUB    LAST    GLANCE    OF    SCOTLAND. 


The  weather  for  the  next  three  days  continued  as  fine  as  summer 
weather  could  be.  "With  wind  and  tide  in  her  favor,  the  Anne 
made  a  splendid  run  through  the  Mory  Frith,  passed  the  auld  town 
of  Aberdeen,  and  before  sunset,  sailed  close  under  the  dreary  Caith- 
ness coast.  -  -  '^-' 

Flora  examined  John  o'  Groat's  house  with  some  interest,  and 
for  the  first  time  in  her  life  discovered  that  the  fantastic  red  rock 
which  bears  that  name,  was  not  a  bona  fide  dwelling,  which  up  to- 
that  moment  she  had  imagined  it  to  be. 

A  prospect  more  barren  and  desolate  than  that  over  which  Caith- 
ness Castle  rises  pre-eminent,  can  scarcely  be  imagined.  Flora 
turned  from  the  contemplation  of  the  stony  waste  with  an  inward 
thanksgiving,  "  that  it  was  not  her  home."  But  when  they  round- 
ed Duncansby  Head,  the  scene,  before  so  tame  and  sterile,  became 
more  grand  and  picturesque  every  moment.  They  were  now  in 
the  stormy  Pentland  Frith,  threading  their  way,  with  the  aid  of  a 
pilot,  through  its  romantic  labyrinth  of  islands,  driven  onward  by 
a  spanking  wind. 

The  bold  outline  of  the  coast  was  so  different  in  its  character 


ffc 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


191 


from  that  to  whicli  slic  had  been  accustomed  from  a  child,  that 
it  made  a  povrerful  impression  upon  her  mind,  and  quickly  asso- 
dated  itself  with  all  legends  of  th?  wild  and  marvellous  that  she 
had  ever  heard  or  read.  Those  beetling  crags,  those  ocenn  caves, 
into  which  the  wild  sea-waves  rushed  with  such  a  fearful  din, 
seemed  rittiv>g  habitations  for  all  the  evil  demons  that  abound 
in  the  Scandinavian  mytholog}',  once  dreaded  as  stem  realities,  in 
a  darker  stage  of  human  progression. 
How  tame,  beside  these  awful  sublimities,  appeared  the  gentle, 

sloping  cliffs  at  ,  and  her  little  cottage  fronting  the  quiet 

bay! 

*'  Green  lie  these  tliickly  tflnbcr'd  sborea,  ^   - 

-      >~      V  !.  Fair  sloping  to  the  sea." 

But  here  rocks  upon  rocks,  in  endless  confusion,  reared  their 
craggy  heads  towards  heaven,  their  frowning  shadows  casting  a 
Stygian  gloom  upon  the  billows  that  leap  and  roar  around  their 
massive  base.  A  per})etual  war  of  ages  these  billoAys  have  waged 
.'igainst  the  iron  ban-iers  that,  with  silent,  motionless,  resistless 
force,  repel  their  white-crested  phalanx,  scattering  them  into 
shining  fragments  of  snowy  spray.  Ocean  will  not  be  defeated  ; 
he  calls  Ins  legends  again  and  again  to  the  charge,  only  to  bo 
broken  and  beaten  back  as  before.  They  retreat  with  a  sullen  roar 
of  defiance,  that  seems  to  say,  "  You  have  beaten  us  ;  but  we  will 
try  our  strength  against  you  once  more.  The  day  is  coming  when 
one  of  us  two  must  vield." 

The  rocks  assumed  all  liites  in  the  fiery  beams  of  the  setting  eun. 
Tlie  red  granite  glowed  with  tints  of  crimson,  violet,  indigo,  and 
gold,  these  colors  assuming  a  greater  intensity  when  reflected  in  the 
transparent  waters  of  the  Firth.  It  was  a  scene  to  see,  not  to  prate 
a]x)ut,  and  the  memory  of  its  brilliancy  still  lies  enshrined,  like  some 
precious  gem  in  Flora  Lyndsay's  heart. 

As  headland  after  headland  flew  past,  revealing  at  every  point 
some*  fresh  combinations  of  grandeur  and  beauty  bursting  upon  the 
sight.  Flora  clapped  her  hands  together  in  a  sort  of  ecstasy,  and 
could  scarcely  refrain  from  shouting  aloud  with  delight. 

Lyndsay  was  standing  silently  beside  her,  watching  with  an  air 
of  melancholy  interest  the  scene  which  excited  in  her  nature-loving 
breast  such  intense  enthusiasm. 

"  Flora,  do  you  see  that  old-fashioned  mansion  that  crowns  the 
green  ampi theatre,  surrounded  by  tAiose  lofty  hills  in  front  of  us  ? 


192 


FLORA  LYNDSAY. 


Oh,  'tis  a  lovely,  romantic  place — with  that  giant  hill  that  looks 
like  ail  old  man  in  a  highlaud  bonnet,  towering  above  it,  away  thcro 
in  tlie  back  ground.     That  is  the  old  man  of  Hoy.     That  old  liouso 

is  M ,  where  1  was  born  and  brought  up."    lie  drew  a  deep, 

inward  sigh,  and  turning  his  face  from  his  wife,  continueil  to  gaze 
with  an  earnest  longing,  and  could  she  have  seen  his  eyes  that  were 
shaded  by  his  hand,  perhaps  willi  a  tearful  glance  on  the  Jionie  of 
his  childhood,  of  many  generations  of  his  lamily.  The  shades  of 
night  drew  a  veil  over  the  stern  landscape,  and  the  moon  rose  up 
and  bathed  rock  and  crag  and  mountain  height  with  a  Hood  of  sil- 
ver glory,  adding  a  ghost-like,  awful  sublimity  to  the  scene  ;  but 
Lymisay  still  leant  upon  the  vessel's  side,  watching  with  the  same 
intense  expression  the  black  outline  of  the  receding  coaat,  which,  in 
that  uncertain  light,  presented  an  aspect  of  rugged,  frowning  desola- 
tion. 

The  Captain  expected  to  put  into  Kirkwall,  at  which  place  ho 
iiad  been  requested  by  the  owners  to  take  in  a  supply  of  fresh  pro- 
■\isions  and  water  for  the  voyage — the  water  casks  having  been 
filled  with  the  execrable  waters  o'  Lcith,  under  the  ostensible  reason 
of  keeping  them  i'rom  leaking  until  they  could  obtain  a  better  sup- 
ply. But  the  wind  and  tide  being  in  his  favor,  and  enabling  him 
to  make  a  rapid  run  through  the  Firth,  lie  thought  it  best  to 
keep  straight  on.  Tliis,  in  the  end,  by  leaving  the  vessel  short  of 
l)rovisions  and  water,  proved  a  short-sighted  jiolicy,  while  it  greatly 
disappointed  Flora,  whom  Lyndsay  had  promised  to  introduce  to 
some  of  his  friends,  and  give  her  a  nearer  view  of  the  romantic 
islands,  which,  seen  from  the  water,  had  excited  her  curiosity  to  the 
utmost 

But  the  An)w  spread  her  white  wings  to  catch  the  fresh  breeze 
that  was  piping  its  hoarse  song  among  the  shrouds,  and  sped  far 
upon  her  westward  way,  leaving  Mrs.  Lyndsay  to  upbraid  the 
captain  with  having  cheated  her  hopes,  which  now  couldjiever  be 
realised. 

Boreas  only  laughed,  and  said — *'  that  he  was  d d  sorry,  for 

that  he  would  have  to  drink  bad  water  and  eat  salt  junk  the  rest 
of  the  voyage." 

"  And  what  has  become  of  the  little  man  in  brown  ?"  asked 
Flora ;  "  I  have  not  seen  him  since  he  crept  into  the  boat."  . 

"  We  had  a  blow  up  this  morning,"  said  Boreas.  "  When  I 
came  on  deck,  my  gentleman  was  marching  about  as  bold  as  you 


FLORA     LYXDSAY. 


193 


[•eczo 
fur 
tho 

br  be 

\,  for 
rest 

Iskcd 

ten  I 

you 


please,  and  had  the  impudence  to  threaten  to  kick  one  of  the  emi- 
grant children  overboard,  if  he  found  him  in  his  path  again. 
When  I  remonstrated  witli  the  scoundrel  on  his  impudence,  as  tho 
father  of  the  child  knew  him,  and  might  report  him  to  the  pilot, 
he  bade  me  '  Go  to  h — ,  and  take  care  of  my  own  people.  IIo 
would  not  submit  to  my  low  tyranny.  lie  would  do  as  he  j)leasotl, 
without  asking  my  leave  T  And  then  the  fellow  began  to  rave  and 
Bwear  in  such  an  outrageous  manner,  that  I  could  hardly  resist  the 
inclination  I  felt  to  pitch  him  plump  into  the  sea,  But  I  bad  ray 
revenge.     Ila!  ha!  I  had  my  revenge." 

"  In  what  way  ?"  aslced  Lyndsuy. 

"  The  best  way  in  the  world  ;  and  the  snarling  puppy  had  no 
one  to  blame  but  himself.  My  dog  Oscar  is  d— ^  ugly,  but  he's 
the  most  sagacious  boast  in  the  world.  He  can  tell  an  honest  man 
jit  a  glance,  and  he  hates  rogues.  Oscar  sat  on  his  haunches, 
eyeing  the  little  man  with  no  very  amiable  squint  during  the  row  ;  - 
every  now  and  then  uttering  a  significant  growl,  and  making  a 
preparatory  snap  at  Mr.  Lootie's  legs,  as  if  he  longed  to  take  tho 
quarrel  under  bis  own  especial  management.  In  the  lieat  of 
anger,  Mr.  Lootie  kept  raising  his  Jiands,  and  shaking  them  at  mo 
in  a  threatening  manner.  Oscar  hi  it  pass  for  what  it  was  worth 
the  first  time ;  but  the  moment  the'  list  was  raised  a  second  time, 
he  dashed  into  the  little  brute  with  tooth  and  claw,  and  pulling 
him  to  the  ground,  he  gave  him  such  a  touzling,  that  the  distiller 
was  fail  to  roar  aloud  for  mercy  ;  and  I  proved  just  then  very 
deaf,  and  he  got  enough  of  it,  I  can  tell  you," 

"  Served  him  right,"  said  Flora ;  "  I  expect  he  will  afford  us 
some  amusement  during  the  voyage.  Captain,  where  did  you 
procure  this  codfish  ?  I  never  tasted  anything  so  delicious  in  the 
fish  way  in  my  life," 

"  Ah,  I  thought  you'd  find  that  a  treat.  Those  fish  were  alive 
under  the  blue  waters  of  the  Firth  au  hour  ago.  Talk  of  the  fine 
flavor  of  the  Newfoundland  cod  I  they  arc  not  compai'able  to  the 
fish  caught  in  these  rapid  waters." 

Flora  was  on  deck  by  sunrise  the  next  moniing.  The  sky  was 
etill  cloudless,  but  the  breeze  had  freshened,  and  the  sea  was 
covered,  with  short,  rolling  billows,  which  recalled  to  her  mind  a 
beautiful  line  in  Ossian,  where  the  old  bard  compares  these  white- 
crested,  short  waves  to  a  flock  of  sheep  coming  tumbling  over  one 

9 


104 


FLORA     LYNDSAT. 


nnothor  from  tlic  liilla  ;  and  in  anotlicr  place  be  terras  the  wind 
that  moves  theni — 

"  The  8lioj;)hcr(Ic»»  of  tho  swi  driving  her  ffoclts  on  shore." 

A  tall,  dark  man,  that  was  at  tlte  whwl,  and  bore  the  rery  appro- 
priate name  of  Bol)  >[otion,  whotluT  real  or  assumed,  it  would  bo 
hard  to  say,  called  this  short  chopping  sea,  "  the  white  mice  being 
out." 

Flora  found  it  no  easy  nmtter  to  keep  her  feet  on  the  dock  while 
the  vessel  was  mnivj;  sidewavs  through  the  water,  but  she  hun?  on 
to  the  bulwarks,  and  was  rewank'd  by  the  sight  of  the  wild  Suth- 
erland coast  on  the  left,  its  brown  hcjitlr-covered  hills  and  fantastic 
rocks,  conjuring  up  the  form  of  the  Nornu  of  the  fitfnl  Head — • 

"  And  of  every  will  shore  tliat  thp  nortliern  winds  Iwiiew." 

*  Very  few  of  the  emigrants  had^  ventured  out  of  the  steerage,  being 
down  with  sca-sickrK'SS  ;  but  Flora  never  sulTered  once  from  thigr 
distressing  m-alady  during  the  voyage.  This  nwrning,  in  particular, 
Khe  felt  woll  antl  in  high  spirits.  A  sense  of  glorious  freedom  in 
thus  bounding  o\T}r  the  fn;e,  glad  waves,  in  feeling  their  spray  upon 
lier  lips,  and  the  fresh,  wild  breath  of  the  wind  fanning  her  cheeks, 
and  whistling  through  her  hair.  The  ship  seemed  endo\ved  with 
life  as  well  as  motion,  as  she  leaped  from  wave  to  wave,  and  breasted 
the  flashing  biine  as  if  it  were  her  aervaut,  and  sworn  to  do  her  bid- 
ding. '  "  . 

"  Well,  Flora,  what  do  you  think  of  Lord  Rao's  countij?"  saicj 
Lyndsiiy. 

"  It  is  terrific !"  returned  Flora ;.  I  cannot  look  at  that  confusiori 
of  hills,  lifting  their  tall  heads  to  heaven,  but  I  fancy  that  the  earth 
has  rebelled  against  her  Maker,  and  dares  to  defy  Him  to  his  face. 
It  is  odd — a  strange  madness,  you  will  think — but  the  sight  ot' these 
mountains  thrills  me  with  fear.  I  feel  myself  grow  pale  while  look- 
ing at  them,  and  tremble  while  I  adnvire." 

To  me,  who  was  born  among  the  hills.  Flora,  these  sensations  of 
yours  are  almost  incomprehensible.  But  look,  that  broken  arch  of 
Btone  formed  by  those  immense  black  rocks  rouml  which  the  wild 
waves  revel,  and  leap  in  a  glad  frenzy,  is  the  ontTance  to  Loch  Gri- 
bol.     It  is  one  of  the  grandest  objects  on  this  rugged  coast." 

How  often  amid  the  dark  woods  of  CarKida  did  the  stern  sublim- 
ity o/tliat  awful  scene  return  to  Flora  Lyndsay  in  her  dreams  !  The 


FLORA     LYXD3AY. 


195 


barren  coast  of  Anticosti,  the  pine-covered  precipices  of  free-stone 
that  frown  over  Chaleur  Bay,  and  the  mountain  range  that  extends 
on  the  north  of  the  St.  Ijawrence  from  the  Gulf  to  Quebec,  though 
they  jiresent  every  variety  of  savage  scenery,  cannot  compete  with 
the  lonely,  sterile  grandeur  that  marks  the  indashing  of  the  ocean 
waves  into  that  Highland  loch. 

The  long,  bright  summer  day  wore  to  its  close,  and  before  the 
moon  looked  down  upon  the  heath-clad  hills,  the  light-house  oq 
Cape  Wrath  had  diminished  ^o  a  star  amid  the  waves,  and  the 
coast  of  Scotland  looked  like  a  dim  wreath  of  blue  smoke  upon  the 
verge  of  the  horizon.  '  v.  ^ 

The  little  islands  of  Barra  and  Rona  dimly  distinguished  above 
the  waves,  were  the  last  of  the  British  Isles  that  met  Flora's 
anxious  glance ;  and  when  they  faxlod  into  the  immensity  of  ocean, 
and  were  lost  to  sight,  and  the  vessel  fairly  stood  to  sea,  a  sense  of 
loneliness,  of  perpetual  exile,  pressed  so  heavily  upon  her  heart, 
that  she  left  the  deck,  and  sought  her  bed,  that  she  might  bewail  in 
solitude  her  last  passionate  adieu  to  her  native  land. 


CHAPTER  XXXI. 


STEPIIEX   CORRIE. 


Now  that  the  fear  of  detection  was  over,  the  little  brown  man 
fearlessly  emerged  from  his  hiding-phice  in  the  boat,  and  prome- 
naded the  deck  from  morning  till  night,  sneering  at  the  steerage  pas- 
sengers, and  abusing  the  sailors  iu  the  most  arrogant  and  assured 
manner. 

He  was  the  most  contrary,  malicious,  waspish  elf  that  could  well 
be  imagined.  If  he  could  not  find  an  opportunity  for  stinging  and 
teasing  with  Ms  ill-natured  sarcasms  and  remarks,  he  buzzed  around 
his  victims  like  an  irritated  musquito,  whose  shrill  notes  of  defiance 
and  antagonism  are  as  bad  as  its  bite.  The  more  Flora  saw  of  Mr. 
Lootie,  the  less  she  wished  to  see  of  him  ;  but  she  could  not  come 
upon  the  deck  without  his  pestering  her  with  his  company,  and 
annoying  her  with  observations  on  his  fcllow-passengerS;  which  were 
as  unjust  as  they  were  cruel. 

It  was  in  vain  that  she  turned  her  back  upon  him,  and  gave  him 
curt,  ungracious  answers,  often  affecting  not  to  hear  him  at  all. 


fl 


196 


rLORA    LYNDSAY. 


Tlic  little  snufT-colorcd  wretch  was  too  much  at  heart  a  sneak,  with 
all  his  impudence,  to  be  readily  shook  off. 

It  was  only  when  Oscar,  who  had  attached  himself  to  Mrs.  Lynd- 
say  and  her  child,  accompanied  her  to  the  deck,  that  Mr.  Lootie 
kept  his  distance.  The  fierce  terrier  had  only  to  draw  up  his  lip 
and  show  his  ivories,  hissing  through  them  a  short,  ominous  snarl, 
and  the  brown  dwarf  retreated  with  a  growl  and  a  curse  into 
his  boat. 

I  am  sorry  to  say  that  Flora  actually  fostered  the  deadly  enmity 
that  existed  between  Oscar  and  the  recreant  distiller,  which  seemed 
the  more  unjustifiable,  as  there  was  a  positive  personal  likeness 
between  the  biped  and  quadruped.  They  had  the  same  short,  pert 
contour  of  face,  the  same  petulant  curl  of  the  nostrils,  the  same 
fiery-red  flash  in  the  small  yellow-brown  eyes,  and  the  very  same 
method  of  snarling  and  showing  off  their  white,  malicious-looking 
teeth.  The  very  color  of  Oscar's  low,  rough  coat  was  nearly  the 
same  with  the  scanty  beard  and  hair  of  his  inveterate  foe.  Could 
Oscar  have  spoken  with  a  human  tongue,  he  would  have  declared 
himself  very  little  flattered  by  the  resemblance  ;  for,  rough  as  he 
was,  he  was  an  honest  dog,  and  loved  honesty  in  others.  There 
was  only  one  mental  feature  common  to  both — their  capacity  to 
hat-e  and  to  annoy  those  they  disliked. 

Occasionally  the  little  brown  man  indulged  in  a  fit  of  mirth. 
When  retreating  under  the  shade  of  his  ark  of  safety — the  boat — ■ 
he  would  sing  in  a  low  bow-wow,  tone  some  ditty  only  known  to 
himself,  the  upper  notes  of  which  resembled  a  series  of  continued 
snarls  ;  and  Oscar  would  stop  just  in  front  of  him,  and  snarl  in 
return,  till  the  patience  of  the  musician  was  utterly  exhausted, 
and  he  would  rush  out  of  his  hiding-place,  and  pursue  his  hairy 
foe  round  the  deck  with  a  cudgel,  uttering  unmistakable  curses 
at  every  blow.  ^ 

These  skirmishes  were  nuts  for  old  Boreas  to  crack,  who,  putting 
his  arms  akimbo,  would  encourage  the  pugnacity  of  his  dog  with 
loud  cries — 

"  At  him,  Oscar  ! — at  him !  Give  it  him  strong,  my  boy !"  to 
the  no  small  indignation  of  ]V!>.  Lootie,  who  would  retire,  mutter- 
ing to  himself — 

1     "  I  don't  know  which  is  the  greatest  brute  of  the  two,  you  or 
your  cur !" 

"  My  dog  is  a  good  physiognomist ;  he  knows  best,"  would  be 


FLORA     LYNDSAY, 


19t 


the  rejoinder  ;  and  llio  wftr  would  recommence  with  greater  fury 
tlian  ever. 

Mr.  Ix)otic  was  not  the  only  mysterious  passenger  on  board  tlio 
brig  Anne.  There  was  another  who  made  his  appearance  among 
the  steerage-passengers  the  moment  the  vessel  was  out  of  sight  of 
land,  to  tlie  astonishment  of  old  Boreas  and  his  crew — a  young 
liandsome,  dare-devil  sort  of  a  chap,  who  might  have  numbered 
six-and-twenty  years,  Mho  called  himself  Stephen  Corrie.  He 
made  his  debut  upon  deck  as  suddenly  and  as  unexpectedly  as  if 
h(»  had  fallen  from  the  stars,  and  possessed  the  power  of  rendering 
himself  visible  or  invisible  at  will. 

No  one  knew,  or  pretended  to  know,  who  he  was,  or  from  when^o 
he  came.  lie  had  been  smuggled  on  board  by  the  women  folk. 
It  was  their  secret,  and,  though  it  must  have  been  known  to  many 
of  them,  they  kept  it  well. 

No  luggage  had  he  to  encumber  the  hold,  not  a  copper  in  ..id 
pockets,  nor  a  change  of  raiment  for  his  back  ;  the  clothes  he  wore 
being  of  the  lightest  and  clieapest  description — p,  c'uecked  shirt  and 
coarse  white  cti  ,ass  jacket  and  trowsers  comprising  his  whole 
wardrobe.  He  had  lai»l  in  no  jirovisions  for  the  voyage,  but  livcil 
upon  the  contributions  of  the  poor  emigrants,  with  whom  he  w;i3 
the  most  popular  man  on  board ;  and  no  one  was  better  fed,  or 
seemed  to  enjoy  better  health  or  spirits.  The  latter  conunodity 
appeared  perfectly  inexhaustible.  He  laughed  and  sung,  told  long 
yarns,  and  made  love  to  all  the  young  women,  whose  especial  dar- 
ling and  idol  he  seemed  to  be.  The  iirst  on  deck,  and  the  last  to 
leave^  he  was  a  living  embodiment  of  the  long-sought-for  princij)!e 
of  perpetual  motion  ;  his  logs  and  tongue  never  seemed  to  tire,  and 
his  loud,  clear  voice  and  joyous  peals  of  laughter,  rang  unceasingly 
through  the  ship.  When  not  singing,  whistling,  shouting,  or 
making  fun  for  all  around  him,  he  danced  hornpipes,  making  his 
fingers  keep  time  with  his  feet,  by  a  continual  snapping,  which 
resembled  the  strokes  of  the  tamborino  or  castinets.  A  more  mer- 
curial, jovial  fellow  never  set  old  1'ime  at  defiance,  or  laughed  in 
the  grisly  face  of  Care. 

Tall  and  lithe  of  limb,  his  complexion  was  what  the  Scotch  term 
sandy  ;  his  short,  curling  hair  and  whiskorh  resembling  the  tint  of 
red  gravel,  profuse  in  quantity, fine  in  quality,  und  ■.lustering  round 
his  nigh,  white  forehead  with  most  artistic  grace.  His  features  were 
regular  and  well  cut,  his  large,  bright^  blue  eyes  overflowing  with 


(■•I 

U'l    .1 


If,  .- 


sTTk 


:i 


198 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


mirth  and  reckless  audacity  ;  and  when  he  laughed,  which  was  every 
other  minute,  he  showed  a  dazzling  ?^t  of  snow-white  teeth,  and 
looked  so  happy  and  free  from  care,  that  every  one  laughed  with 
him,  and  echoed  the  droll  sayings  that  fell  from  his  lips. 

Stephen  Corrie  was  one  whom  the  world  generally  calls  an 
"  excellent-hearted  fellow — an  enemy  to  no  one  but  himself." 

We  must  confess  that  our  faith  in  this  class  of  excellent  fellows 
is  very  small — these  men  who  are  always  sinning,  and  tempting 
others  to  sin,  in  the  most  amiable  manner.  There  are  few  individ- 
uals who  do  more  mischief  in  their  day  and  generation  than  these 
good-hearted  young  men,  these  sworn  enemies  to  temperance  and 
morality.  Like  phosphoric  wood,  they  only  shine  in  the  dark,  con- 
cealing under  a  gay,  brilliant  exterior,  the  hallowncss  and  corrup- 
tion that  festers  within. 

Stephen  Corrie  was  one  of  those  men,  whose  heart  is  always  pro- 
claimed to  be  in  the  right  place,  whose  bad  deeds  men  excuse  and 
women  adore. 

The  day  he  made  his  first  appearance  upon  the  deck,  the  Captain 
flew  into  a  towering  passion,  and  marching  up  to  him,  demanded, 
with  a  great  oath,  "  How  the  devil  he  came  on  board,  and  what 
money  he  had  to  pay  his  passage?" 

Stephen  showed  his  white  teeth,  and  replied  with  a  provoking 
smile — 

"Not  as  the  fair  Cleopatra  did  to  the  great  Cajsare,  roUed'up  in 
a  feather-bed  ;  but  under  cover  of  a  woman's  petticoat,  most  noble 
Captain." 

*'  Have  done  with  your  d d  fooling !  Who  was  the  bold  hussy 

that  dared  to  smuggle  you  on  board  ?" 

, "  I  never  betray  a  woman's  secret,"  returned  the  audacious  youth, 
bowing  very  low,  with  an  air  of  mock  gravity.  "  God  bless  the 
dear  sex !  it  has  befriended  me  ever  since  I  could  run  alone. 
Women  have  been  my  weakness  from  the  hour  that  I  had  discrimi- 
nation enough  to  know  the  diflbreuce  between  a  smooth  cheek  and 
a  hairy  one." 

"  And  pray  how  do  you  intend  to  live?" 

"  Under  the  favor  and  patronage  of  the  dear  angels,  who  will 
never  suffer  their  faithful  slave  and  admirer  to  perish  for  lack  of 
food." 

"  I  wish  them  joy  of  their  big  baby,"  cried  the  rough  seaman  : 


F1.0RA     LYXDSAT. 


109 


'••a  most  hopeful  and  promising  child  Luc  sccjiis,  bj  this  light !    And 
Tour  name,  sir?" 

"  Stephen  Corrie." 

"  Your  j)r()fc'ssion  ?" 

"  A  saddlci*  by  trade,  an  aotor  by  ■choice*,  and  a  Eoldicr  by  ncccs- 
eity.  I  hated  the  first  of  these,  and  never  took  well  to  the  saddle ; 
the  second  pleased  me,  but  not  my  audience ;  and  the  last  I  took 
French  leave  of  the  other  night,  and  determined  to  try  how  salt 
water  would  agree  with  my  constitution." 

"  Uow  do  you  think  a  rawhide  vrould  agree  '\vilh  you  ?"  growled 
ihe  Captain. 

"  He  would  be  a  brave  fellow  who  would  attempt  to  administer 
it,"  said  Stephen,  with  a  flashing  eye.  "  But,  to  tell  you  the  truth, 
I  had  too  much  of  it  at  home  in  the  ehop.  It  was  my  lather's 
•receipt  for  every  sin  of  the  flt>;h  ;  and  the  free  a<bninistration  of 
this  devilish  weapon  made  me  what  I  am.  But  softly-,  Captain  ; 
it  is  of  no  use  putting  yourself  iiito  a  passion.  You  can't  throw 
jnc  overboard,  and  you  may  make  mo  useful,  since  Providence  has 
jilaced  me  here." 

"  Confound  your  impudence  T'  roared  out  old  Boreas,  in  his  sten- 
iorian  voice.  "  Do  you  think  tluit  IVovidenee  cares  for  such  a 
young  scamp  as  you  ?"        .  . . 

'•  Doubtless  with  Tcferonce  to  my  ivnproTcmeivt ;  and,  as  I  was 
f;oing  to  say,  Captain,  I  am  v/illng  to  work  for  my  lodging.  The 
women  v/iJl  iiever  kt  Buch  a  pretty  fjllow  as  me  starve  ;  and  the 
ship  is  not  .«.o  ci'owdtxl  but  that  you  may  allov;  me  house-room, 
Kcach  here  your  fist,  old  Xor'-wcster,  and  say  'tis  a  bargain." 

The  Captain  remaininl  with  his  hands  firmly  thrust  into  his 
breeches'  pockets ;  but  Flora  knew,  by  the  comical  smile  on  his 
face,  that  he  was  relenting. 

"  Yon  can't  help  yourself,  Captaivju  so  wc  had  bctta*  h?.  friends.' 

"  And  you  have  no  money  ?" 

"  Not  a  siiipence." 

"Xor  ckthes-'"  '  .  ^ 

"  None  but  of  nature's  tanning,  T  did  not  choose  to  walk  off 
with  the  king's  coat  on  my  back  ;  '.;nd  these  duds  were  lent  me  bv 
ii  friend.  Yoa  sec  Captain,  I  am  entirely  dependent  on  your 
bounty.  You  can't  have  the  hfiart  to  be  le^s  genei'ous  than  a  par- 
eel  of  silly  women." 


200 


FLORA     LYXDSAY. 


Hi 


h 


"  You  may  well  say,  silly  women.  But  how  the  deuce  (lid  ymt 
escape  my  observation  ?" 

"  Ah,  Captain,  that  was  easy  enough.  I  liad  only  to  keep  on 
the  blind  side." 

Boi'cas  winced,  he  didn't  half  like  the  joke. 

"  Well,  sir,  keep  on  the  blind  side  of  me  still." 

"  Don't  let  me  lind  you  cutting  up  any  capers  among  the  women, 
or  by  Jove  you'll  have  to  swinx  some  dark  night  to  Quebec  without 
the  help  of  a  lanthorn." 

"  Tlumk  you,  Captain  ;  I'll  take  your  advice,  and  keep  in  the 
dark.  If  you  waut  security  for  my  good  conduct,  all  the  women  iu 
the  steerage  will  go  Uvil  fur  me." 

"  Pretty  bail,  indeed !  Tlicy  first  cheat  me  out  of  my  just  dues 
'by  smuggling  you  on  board,  and  then  promise  to  give  security  for 
your  good  conduct.  IJut  I'll  take  the  change  Out  of  you,  never 
Ibar."  And  away  walked  the  Captain,  secretly  laughing  in  his 
sloeve  at  his  odd  customer,  wlio  became  as  great  a  favorite  with 
the  blunt  suilor  xi  he  was  with  his  female  friends. 

'•  The  fellows  not  a  snealc,  Mrs.  T^yndsay  ;  I  like  him  for  that ; 
and  if  the  v/omon  choose  to  feed  him  at  their  own  charges,  he's 
welcome  to  what  he  can  get.  I  slian'^t  trouble  my  head  with  pry- 
ing into  liis  private  aillnrs. 

The  truth  of  the  matter  was,  that  CV/rie  was  desperately  iu  love 
with  a  very  pretty  girl,  called  Margaret  Williamson,  who,  doubt- 
less, had  snui'.'gled  her  lover  ou  board  in  female  attire.  'J'hc  familv 
of  the  "Williamsons  consisted  of  a  £itlicr,  tv»-o  awkward  rough  lads, 
four  grown-up  daughters,  and  an  old  grandniotber.  Naunie  and 
Jcannie,  the  elder  daughtei'S  of  the  old  uiup.,  v/erc  ugly,  violent  wo- 
men, on  tlic  wrong  side  of  tlurty  ;  Lizzie  an;l  Margaret  Avere  still  in 
their  teens,  and  were  pretty,  modest  looking  girls,  the  belles  of  tlie 
sliip.  The  old  graudjuothor,  who  was  eighty  years  of  age,  was  a 
terrible  ivprobrate,  who  ruled  l^er  son  and  grandchildren  with  the 
might  of  her  tongiio — and  a  wicked,  virulent  toague  it  was  as  ever 
■wagged  iu  a  woman's  moatli.  Constant  was  the  war  of  words  going" 
on  between  Xanuie  and  her  aued  relative,  and  each  vied  in  out- 
cursing  and  scolding  the  other.  It  was  fearful  to  listcu  to  their 
mutual  recriminations,  and  the  coarse  abuse  in  which  they  occasion- 
ally indulged.  But,  violent  as  the  younger  fury  was,  her  respecta- 
ble grand-dame  beat  her  Iwllow ;  for  wheu  her  tongue  failed,  her 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


201 


hands  supplied  the  deticiency,  and  sbe  beat  and  buffeted  the  younger 
members  of  the  family  witliout  mercy. 

These  two  women  were  tlie  terror  of  the  steerage  passengers,  and 
the  torment  of  the  Captain's  life>  who  was  daily  called  upon  to  vsct- 
tle  their  disputes.  The  father  of  this  precious  crew  was  so  besotted 
with  drink,  and  so  afraid  of  his  mother  and  eldest  daughter,  that  he 
generally  slunk  away  into  a  corner,  and  left  them  the  undisturbed 
possession  of  the  field.  How  a  decent-looking,  well-educated  young 
fellow,  like  Stephen  Corrio,  got  entangled  with  such  a  low  set,  was 
a  matter  of  surprise  to  the  whole  ship.  But,  desperately  as  they 
quarreled  among  themselves,  they  always  treated  their  handsome 
dependent  with  marked  respect,  and  generously  shared  with  him  the 
best  they  had. 


j>,. 


V  CHAFER   XXXII. 

THE    captain's    prentice. 

For  the  first  ten  days  the  Anne  made  a  capital  run,  and  the  Cap- 
tain predicted  that  if  nothing  went  wrong  with  her,  the  port  of 
Quebec  would  be  made  in  a  month,  or  five  weeks  at  the  farthest.    , 

James  Hawkc  had  recovered  his  health  and  spirits,  and  before 
many  days  had  elapsed,  had  made  friends  with  every  one  in  the 
siiip,  but  the  little  brown  man,  who  repelled  all  tho  lad's  advances 
with  'the  most  dogged  ill-humor.  James  had  accomplished  the  feat 
of  climbing  to  the  top  of  the  mast,  greatly  to  his  own  satisfaction, 
and  had  won  golden  opinions  from  tho  Captain  and  all  the  sailors 
on  board.  He  had  examined  every  hole  and  corner  in  the  ship, 
knew  the  names  of  most  of  the  ropes  and  sails,  and  could  lend  a 
hand  in  adjusting  them,  with  as  much  promptness  and  'lexterity  as 
if  he  had  served  an  apprenticeship  to  the  sea  for  years. 

"That  lad  was  born  for  a  sailor,"  was  the  Captain's  constant 
cry.  "  I  have  no  son  of  my  own.  If  his  parents  would  give  him 
to  me,  I  would  make  him  a  first  rate  navigator."  —■    . 

James  was  flattered  by  the  Captain's  remarks  ;  but  he  saw  too 
much  of  his  tyrannical  conduct  to  a  prentice  lad  on  board,  to  wish 
to  fill  such  a  disagreea.ble  post. 

Benjie  Monro  was  a  tall,  thin,  sickly-looking  lad  of  sixteen,  the 
Bon  of  a  poor  widow  in  New  Haven,  who  had  seen  bettor  days. 

m  , 


'»■;  «*■ 


202 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


The  boy  was  proud  and  obstinate,  and  resisted  the  ill-treatment  of 
his  sujierior  and  his  subordinates  with  a  determination  of  purpose 
that  did  him  no  good,  but  only  inereased  his  own  misery. 

T\wi  sailors,  who  knew  that  he  was  no  favorite  with  the  Captain, 
lialf-starved  him,  and  played  him  a  thousand  ill-natured  tricks,  lie 
was  ill  and  unhappy,  and  tasked  beyond  his  strength ;  and  Mr. 
Collins,  kind  as  he  generally  was  to  others,  was  cruel  and  over- 
bearing to  the  wretched  boy.  Flora  often  saw  the  tears  trembling 
in  Benjie's  eyes,  and  she  pitied  him  from  her  very  heart. 

One  morning  Benjie  had  received  ordere  to  do  something  in  \il\ 
particular  calling  from  the  mate ;  but  hii  f.  ommands  were  exprcsvscd 
in  such  a  tyrannical  manner,  that  he  flatly  refused  to  comply. 
Flinging  himself  upon  the  deck,  he  declared,  "  he  would  die  first." 

"  We  shall  soon  see  who's  master  licre,"  cried  Mr.  Collins, 
administering  sundry  savage  kicks  to  the  person  of  the  half-clad 
boy,  who  lay  as  motionless  before  him  as  if  he  was  really  dgad. 

After  diverting  himself  for  some  time  in  this  fashion,  and  finding 
that  it  produced  no  more  eCfect  in  making  the  lad  stir  than  if  he 
had  been  wasting  his  strength  on  a  log,  he  called  up  the  Captain. 

"Dead  is  he?"  said  old  Boreas.  "  AVell,  we'll  soon  bring  him 
to  life.     Call  Motion  to  fetch  a  light." 

The  light  was  brought,  and  applied  to  the  toes  and  finger-ends  of 
the  boy,  until  they  were  severely  scorched  ;  but  his  obstinate  spirit 
bore  the  torturing  punishment  without  moving  a  muscle  or  uttering 
the  faintest  moan.* 

"  By  George !  I  believe  he  is  gone  at  last,  and  a  good  riddance 
of  a  bad  bargain,"  said  the  Captain.  "  If  he  had  a  spark  of  life 
left  in  him,  he  could  not  stand  that." 

Lyndsay,  who  had  been  Avriting  in  the  cabin,  now  came  upon 
deck,  and  inquiring  of  the  second  mute  what  wivs  going  on,  ran 
forward,  and  warmly  interceded  for  the  boy,  telling  the  Captain 
and  mate,  in  no  measured  terms,  what  he  thought  of  their  conduct. 

"  You  would  not  say  a  word  in  his  behalf,  Mr.  Lyndsay,"  said 
Collins,  "  if  you  knew  what  a  sulky  rascal  he  was.  Insensible  as 
he  appears,  he  is  as  wide  awake  at  this  moment  as  you  are." 

"  He  is  a  miserable,  heart-broken  creature,"  said  Lyndsay»;  "  and 
if  he  had  not  been  treated  very  badly,  he  would  never  attempt  act- 
ing such  a  part." 


gP 


*  A  fact. 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


'203 


land 
lact- 


■"  He's  a  sullen,  ill-conditioned  brute,"  said  Boreas — "  that's  what 
he  is." 

"  I  know  enough  of  human  nature.  Captain  Williams,  to  feci 
certain  that  the  treatment  to  whidi  hu  Ikis  just  been  subjected  will 
«ever  produce  any  beneficial  change  in  his  character." 

"  Who  cares  a  curse  about  him?"  cried  Boreas,  waxing  wrathy. 
*^  He  may  go  to  the  davW  for  mo !  If  he's  dead,  its  time  tiie  fishes 
had  his  ugly  carcase.  AVright  (this  was  his  second  mate),  tell  the 
carpenter  to  get  Monro's  hammock,  and  sew  him  up,  and  throw 
him  overboard." 

A  slight  motion  heaved  tlie  shirt  about  the  breast  of  the  unfortu- 
nate lad. 

"  You  see  he  is  coming  to  himself,"  said  Lyndsay.  "  My  lad, 
how  do  you  feel  now?" 

The  boy  did  not  speak.  The  muscles  of  his  mouth  twitcheil 
convulsively,  and  large  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 

"  Captain,"  said  Lyndsay,  "  do  you  see  no  wrong  in  treating  a 
fellow-creature,  and  one,  by  your  own  account,  born  and  brought 
up  as  well  as  yourself,  like  a  slave?" 

"He's  such  a  disobedient  rascal,  that  he  deserves  nothing 
better." 

"  Did  you  ever  try  IcindDess  V 

The  lad  opened  his  large,  sunken,  heavy  eyes,  and  looked  at  his 
protector  with  such  a  sad,  woe-begone  expression,  that  it  had  tho 
effect  of  touching  tlie  heart  of  Mr.  Collins. 

"  I'm  afraid,"  he  said,  in  an  aside  to  Lvndsav,  "  that  we  have 
not  acted  quite  right  in  this  matter.  But  he  provokes  one  to 
anger  by  his  sullennoss.  "When  I  was  a  prentice  on  board  the 
Ariadne,  I  was  not  treated  a  bit  better  ;  but  I  never  behaved  in 
that  way." 

"  And  did  not  the  recollection  of  your  own  sufferings,  Mr.  Col- 
lins, plead  somewhat  in  behalf  of  this  orphan  boy?  Ilis  temper, 
natiu"ally  proud,  has  been  soured  by  adverse  circumstances,  and 
driven  to  despair  by  blows  and  abusive  language.  I  think  I  may 
pledge  myself  that  if  he  is  used  better,  he  will  do  his  duty  without 
giving  you  any  further  trouble." 

"  Get  up,  Benjie."  paid  the  Captain,  '■  and  go  to  your  work.  I 
will  look  over  your  conduct  on  Mr.  Lyndsay's  account.  But  never 
let  me  sec  you  act  in  this  mutinous  manner  again." 


'■mm  I 
eft 


I 


I 


i 


204 


ILon.V.    r.YXDSAY. 


The  boy  rose  from  the  dock,  sttimmereil  out  hfs  tliants,  an(3 
bcggin;^  Mr.  Collins  to  forgive  his  foolidli  conduct,  limped  off. 

The  next  day  the  lad  was  reported  to  the  captain  as  seriously 
ill,  and  ]Mr.  Collind,  as  he  detailed  his  symptoms,  said,  "  that  ho 
Avas  sorry  that  he  had  r.scd  sach  violence  towards  him  the  preced- 
ing day,  as  the  poor  fellow  had  expressed  himself  very  grateful 
for  the  uon-iL'iccutLon  of  the  Captain's  threat  of  throwing  him  over- 
board." 

"  Oh,"  said  Boreas,  "  that  was  only  to  fnghten  the  chap.  I  am 
not  Huch  a  Turk  as  all  that,  though  ]\[rs.  Lyndsay  has  looked  very 
seriously  at  mo  ever  since.  "Well,  Collins,  what  had  we  better 
give  the  fi'llow  ?"  And  ho  started  from  the  sea-chest  ou  which  he 
was  sitting  astride,  and  produced  the  mcdicinc-ehest. 

Flora  had  forgotten  all  about  the  little  red-haired  doctor,  Mac 
Adie,  and  the  rist  o'  2)crsons,  till  the  sight  of  the  condemned  article 
met  her  eyes. 

It  was  a  large,  handsome,  mahogany  case,  inlaid  with  brass. 
The  captain  opened  it  with  a  sort  of  mysterious  awe,  and  dis- 
played a  goodly  ^'tore  of  glass-bottles  aud  china-boxes. 

"The  lad's  in  a  high  fever,"  said  Collins.     "You  had  better 
give  him  something  that  will  cool  his  blood — Epsom-salts  or  cream' 
of  tiulur."' 

"  Perhiips  a  little  of  both  ?"'  said  I'orcas,  looking  np  at  his  prime 
minister  with  an  inquiring,  comical  twinkle  in  his  one  eye. 

•'A  single  dose  of  either  v.-ould  do." 
'   "TiCt  it  be  salts  thea.     (Jet  me  some  hot  water,  and  I'll  mix 
it  directly."' 

•  The  botde  of  palts  was  produced,  and  the  Ci\ptaiu  proceedi'd 
to  weigh  out  a  quarter  of  a  pound  of  salts. 

"  Into  how  many  doses  do  you  jn-opose  to  divide  thaf  quantity?" 
asked  Flora,  who  was  Avatcliing  his  proceedings  with  considerable 
interest. 

"Divide?"  said  Boreas,  emptying  the  salts  into  a  small  tea- 
cup, which  h.e  filled  with  boiling-water  ;  "  he  must  take  it  at  one 
gulp." 

"  Captain,"  said  Flora,  rising,  and  laying  her  hand  on  his  arm,  as 
he  was  leaving  the  cabin,  "  you  will  kill  the  boy  !" 

"  Do  you  think  that  such  a  drop  as  that  would  hurt  an  infivnt?" 
said  Boreas,  holding  out  the  cup.  "  Why,  bless  the  woman !  sail- 
ors are  not  like  oth?i'  folks ;  they  require  strong  doses." 


FLORA     LYND3AY. 


205 


"  Captain,  I  entreat  you  not  to  be  so  rash.  Divide  the  qnantity 
into  four  parts ;  add  as  much  more  water  to  each,  and  give  it  every 
four  hours,  and  it  will  do  good.  But  if  you  persist  in  adininisfer- 
ing  it  your  way,  it  may  be  attended  with  very  serious  conse- 
quences." 

"  Fiddle-de-dee !  Mrs.  Lyndsay ;  I'm  not  going  to  make  a  toil  of 
a  pleasure.  lie  has  to  take  it,  and  once  will  do  for  all."  In  spite 
of  her  remonstrances,  the  obstinate  old  fellow  went  out  to  administer 
the  terrible  dose  with  his  own  hands  to  the  patient.  It  operated 
a3  untowardly  as  Flora  had  predicted,  and  the  lad  came  so  near 
dying  that  the  Captain  grew  frightened,  and  perhapsjiis  conscience 
tormented  him  not  a  little,  as  his  previous  harsh  conduct  had  been 
the  cause  of  the  lad's  illness — and  he  gave  up  all  faith  in  his  own 
medical  skill,  and  resigned  the  chest,  and  all  its  pernicious  con- 
tents, into  Flora's  safe  keeping. 

The  lad  did  ultimately  recover  from  the  effects  of  the  Captain's 
doctoring,  but  he  was  unable  to  do  much  during  the  rest  of  the 
voyage,  and  crawled  about  the  deck  like  a  living-skeleton. 

If  the  Captain  took  little  notice  of  him,  he  never  treated  him, 
or  suffered  others  to  treat  him,  with  the  brutality  that  had  marked 
his  former  conduct  towards  him. 


If 


CHAPTER  XXXIII. 


THE  LOST   JACKET,   AXD    OTHER   MATTERS. 

The  routine  of' live  on  board  ship,  especially  on  board  such  a 
small  vessel  as  the  brig  Anne,  was  very  dull  and  monotonous,  when 
once  they  lost  sight  of  land.  The  weather,  however,  continued 
cloudless  ;  and  though,  after  the  first  week,  the  favorable  wind  lluit 
liad  wafted  them  so  far  over  their  watery  path  in  safety  deserted 
them,  and  never  again  filled  their  sails,  or  directed  them  in  a  straight 
course,  they  had  no  cause  to  complain.  The  Captain  grumbled  at 
the  prevalence  of  westerly  winds ;  the  mates  grumbled,  and  the  sail- 
ors grumbled  at  having  to  tack  so  often  ;  yet  the  ship  slowly  and 
steadily  continued  to  traverse  the  vast  Atlantic,  with  the  blue  sky 
above,  and  the  deep  green  sea  below,  both  unruffletl  by  cloud  or 
storm.  The  health  of  both  passengers  and  crew  continued  excel- 
lent ;  the  prentice  lad,  Jilonro,  and  Mrs.  Lyndsay's  maid,  Hannah, 


■V"»"" 


^06 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


forming  the  only  exceptions.  As  to  the  latter,  Flora  soon  discovered 
that  her  illness  was  all  apocryplial.  She  chose  to  lie  in  her  hertli 
all  (lay,  where  she  was  fed  from  the  cabin  table,  and  duly  dosed 
with  brandy-and-watcr  by  the  Captain,  who  did  not  attempt  to 
conceal  his  partiality  for  this  worthless  woman.  At  night  sho 
wius  always  well  enough  to  get  up  and  dance  till  after  midnight 
on  the  deck  with  the  passengers  and  sailors.  Her  conduct  was  a 
matter  of  scandal  to  the  whole  ship,  and  Mr.  Collins  complained 
of  his  brother-in-law's  unprincipled  behaviour  in  no  measured 
terms.  "  But  she's  a  bad  woman — an  infamous  woman,  Mrs.  Lynd- 
Bay.     Yqu  had  better  part  with  her  the  moment  you  reach  land." 

'J'his  Flora  would  gladly  have  done ;  but  they  had  laid  out  so 
much  money  in  her  passage  and  outfit,  that  she  did  not  like  to  in- 
cur such  a  heavy  loss.  She  still  ^fcoped  that,  when  removed  from 
the  bad  influence  of  the  Captain,  she  would  behave  herself  with 
more  propriety.  A  sad  mistake — for  this  woman  proved  a  world 
of  trouble  and  sorrow  as  she  was  both  weak  and  wicked,  and  her 
conduct  after  they  readied  Canada  occasioned  Folra  much  anxiety 
and  uneasiness. 

She  remonstrated  with  her — but  sho  found  her  insolently  indif- 
ferent to  her  orders.  "  She  was  free,"  she  sai<l,  "  from  all  engage- 
ment the  moment  she  landed  in  Canada.  She  should  be  a  lady 
there,  as  good  as  other  folks — (meaning  her  mistress) — and  she  was 
not  going  to  slave  herself  to  death  as  a  nurse  girl,  tramping  about 
with  a  heavy  child  in  her  arms  all  day.  Mrs.  Lyndsay  could  not 
compel  her  to  wait  upon  her  on  board  ship,  and  she  might  wait 
upon  herself  for  what  she  caved." 

"But,"  said  Flora,  "how  do  you  expect  to  get  your  living  in 
Canada  ?    You  must  work  there,  or  starve." 

"  Indeed !"  said  Hannah,  tossing  np  her  head.  "  It's  not  long 
that  I  shall  stay  in  Canady.  I'm  going  homo  v'ith  Captain  AVil- 
liams.  He  has  promised  to  divorce  bis  wife,  and  marry  me  when 
he  gets  back  to  Scotland." 

"  Marry  you,  and  divorce  his  wife — the  nice,  kind  ^voman  you 
saw  on  board  the  night  we  sailed  !  Can  you  lend  a  willing  ear  to 
such  idle  tales  ?  He  can  neither  divorce  his  wife  nor  marry  you — ■ 
poor,  foolish  girl !— wicked,  I  should  add  ;  for  your  conduct,  when 
your  situation  is  taken  into  consideration,  is  an  aggravation  of 
hardened  guilt." 

"  It's  no  business  of  yours,  at  any  rate,"  sobbed  Hannah,  who 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


207 


had  tears  always  at  command.  "  I  don't  mean  to  lose  tlic  clianco 
of  being  a  huly,  in  order  to  keep  my  word  with  you.  You  may 
get  somebody  else  to  wait  on  you  and  the  child  ;  1  won't." 

And  she  lloifnced  back  to  Iicr  berth,  and  cried  till  the  Captain 
went  to  console  her. 

This  matter  led  to  a  serious  quarrel  ynth  old  Boreas.  Lyndsay 
reproached  him  with  tampering  with  his  servant,  and  setting  her 
against  her  employers,  and  threatened  to  write  to  Mr.  Gregg  and 
expose  his  conduct.  •  ♦ 

Boreas  was  first  in  a  towering  passion.  Ho  bullied,  and  swore, 
and  cursed  the  impudent  jade,  who,  he  declared,  was  more  compe- 
tent to  corrupt  his  nviJ^als  than  he  was  to  corrupt  hers.  I'hat  she 
was  his  mistress,  he  did  not  deny  ;  but  as  to  the  tale  of  divorcing 

his  Jean  for  such  a ^  J^*"'  ^^^^  ^^^  a  fool  could  believe  it 

for  a  moment."  '  * 

He  promised,  however,  but  very  reluctantly,  to  let  the  girl  alone 
for  the  future ;  and  he  remained  as  sulky  and  as  rude  as  a  bear  to 
the  Lyndsays  for  the  rest  of  the  voyage. 

As  to  little  Josey,  she  did  not  at  all  miss  the  attentions  of  her 
nurse.  Mrs.  Lyndsay  gave  her  a  bath  of  salt  water  night  and 
morning,  in  a  small  tub,  which  Sam  Frascr  duly  brought  to  the 
little  cabin-door  for  the  baby!  making  a  profound  salaam,  and 
proffering  his  aid  to  cook  her  food,  and  carry  her  upon  deck  when 
dressed.  On  deck  she  found  abundance  of  nurses,  from  old  Bob 
Motion  to  the  stately  ]S[r.  Collins,  who,  when  off  duty,  carried  her 
about  in  his  arms,  singing  sea  songs  or  Scotch  ballads,  while  she 
crowed  and  talked  to  him  in  the  most  approved  baby  fashion.  But 
her  kindest  and  best  friend  was  Mr.  Wright,  the  second  mate.  He 
had  been  brought  up  a  gentleman,  and  had  served  his  time  as  mid- 
shipman and  master  on  board  a  king's  ship,  and  had  been  broken 
for  some  act  of  insubordination,  which  had  stopped  his  further 
promotion  in  that  quarter.  He  had  subsequently  formed  an  impru- 
dent marriage  with  some  woman  much  beneath  himself,  and  had 
struggled  for  many  years  with  poverty,  sickness,  and  heart-break- 
ing curoe.  He  had,  in  the  course  of  time,  buried  this  wife  and 
seven  children,  and  was  now  alone  in  the  world,  earning  his  living 
as  the  second  mate  of  a  small  brig  like  the  Anne. 

The  Captain  hated  him,  but  said,  "  that  he  was  an  excellent  sea- 
man, and  could  be  depended  upon."  The  mate  was  jealous  of  him, 
and  thought  that  the  Captain  preferred  Wright  to  hm,  and  con- 


W^': 


'  -■•'«».. 


'^V«M«PQ« 


203 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


V 


1 


fliclcred  him  the  ablest  man  of  Ihe  two.  But  old  Boreas  onTy 
hatod  him  for  yjeinj^  a  goiitlcman  of  snpcrior  birth  and  broedin,^ 
to  himself.  In  spoakiii;,^  of  him,  ho  always  addod — "  Ah,  d — n 
him,  hci'.s  a  gentleman  I  and  writes  uud  speaks  Die.  1  hate  gentle- 
men on  board  ship  !" 

Mr.  Wright,  with  his  silver  hair  and  mild,  pale  face,  was  a  great 
favorftc  with  Flora  ;  and  while  ho  carried  Josev  in  his  arms  to  and 
fro  the  deck,  she  listened  with  ])!easuro  to  the  sad  history  of  his 
misfortunes,  or  to  the  graphic  pictures  he  drew  of  the  Countries  ho 
had  visited  during  a  long  life  spent  at  sea.  lie  fancied  that  Josey 
was  the  image  of  the  last  dear  babe  he  lost — his  pet  and  darling, 
whom  he  never  mentioned  without  emotion — his  blue-oyed  Bessy. 
She  lost  her  mother  when  she  was  just  the  age  of  Josey,  and  she 
used  to  lie  in  his  bosom  of  a  night,  with  her  little  white  arms  clasped 
about  his  neck.  She  was  the  last  thing  left  to  him  on  earth, 'and 
he  had  loved  her  with  all  his  heart;  but  God  punished  him  fur  the 
sin  of  hia  youth  by  taking  Bessy  from  him.  He  was  alone  in  the 
world  now — a  grey-haired,  broken-heartetl  old  man,  with  nothing  to 
live  for  but  the  daily  hope  that  death  was  nearer  to  him  than  it  was 
the  day  before,  and  he  should  soon  see  his  angel  Bessy  and  her 
poor  mother  again. 

And  so  he  took  to  Josey,  and  used  to  call  her  Bessy,  and  laugli 
and  cry  over  her  by  turns,  and  was  never  so  happy  as  when  she  was 
in  his-  arms,  with  her  little  fingers  twined  in  his  long,  grey  locks  ; 
and  he  would  dance  her,  and  hold  her  ever  the  vessel's  side  to  look 
at  the  big  green  waves,  as  they  raced  past  the  ship,  dashing  their 
white  foam-wreaths  against  her  brown  ribs ;  and  Josey  would  regard 
them  with  a  wondering,  wide-open  glance,  as  if  she  wanted  to  catch 
them  i?s  thev  glided  by. 

"  Always  towards  home  !"  as  Flora  said;  for  the  westerly  winds 
still  prevailed,  and  they  made  slow  progress  over  the  world  of 
waters.  -  ...        '' 

The  Captain  now  found  it  necessary  to  restrain  the  great  amount 
of  cooking  that  was  constantly  going  on  at  the  caboose  ;  and  as  a 
matter  of  prudence,  to  inspect  the  stores  of  provision  among  the 
steerage  passengers.  He  found  many  of  these  running  very  low, 
and  he  represented  to  all  on  board,  the  necessity  of  husbanding 
their  food  as  much  as  possible,  as  he  began  to  be  apprehensive  that 
the  voyage  would  prove  long  and  tedious,  and  the  ship  was  only 
{provided  for  a  six-weeks'  voyage. 


FLORA    lA'NDSAY. 


209 


Tho  gooil  folks  lislcnal  to  him  with  an  incrcclnlons  sturo,  as  if 
such  u  calamity  as  starvation  overtaking  thenj  was  impossil)li>. 
From  that  day — and  they  had  been  just  three  weeks  out — the  [)eo- 
|)!e  were  put  upon  short  allowance  of  water,  which  was  gradually 
diminished  from  day  to  day;  Lyndsay  was  allowedhalf  a  pint  extra 
for  shaving,  and  this  Flora  was  glad  to  appropriate  for  the  baby's 
use,  and  get  her  kind  husband  to  shave  with  salt  water  and  pre- 
pared soap. 

Unfortunately  for  the  people  ou  board  the  weather  was  very 
warm,  and  no  rain  had  fallen  of  any  account  since  they  le.l  Sct^t- 
land.  Lyndsay  and  Flora  had  been  greatly  amused  by  r.,  venture 
which  an  honest  Northumbritro  laborer  was  taking  out  to  Canada, 
at  which  they  had  laughed  very  heartily.  It  was  neither  more  nor 
less  than  nine  barrels  of,potatocs,  which  they  hiid  told  him  was 
"  taking  coals  to  Newcastle."  13ut  droll  as  this  investment  of  his 
small  cupital  appeared,  the  hand  of  Providence  had  directed  his 
choice.  At  the  time  when  most  of  the  food  provided  for  the  voyage 
Avas  expended  in  the  ship,  the  Ca})ttiin  was  glad  to  purchase  the 
laborer's  venture  at  three  dollars  a  bushel ;  and  as  each  barrel  con- 
tained four  bushels  of  potatoes,  the  poor  fellow  made  twenty-seven 
pounds  of  his  few  bushels  of  the  "soul-debasing  root,"  as  CobVxitt 
chose  to  styhi  it ;  and  as  he  was  a  quiet,  sensible  fellow,  this  un- 
hoped-for addition  to  his  means  must  have  proved  very  useful  in 
going  into  the  woods.  A  young  fellow  from  Glasgow,  who  carried 
out  with  him  several  large  packets  of  kid  gloves,  was  not  haif  so 
fortunate  ;  fur  though  they  appeared  a  good  speculation,  they  got 
siiottcd  and  spoiled  by  the  sea  water,  and  he  could  not  have  realised 
upon  tliem  the  original  cost. 

Among  the  steerage  passengers  there  was  a  little  tailor,  and  two 
brothers  who  foUowetl  the  trade  of  the  awl,  that  alwavs  afforded 
much  mirth  to  the  sailoi-s.  The  little  tailor,  who  really  might  have 
])as5ed  for  the  ninth  part  of  a  man,  he  was  so  very  small  and  insig- 
nificant, was  the  most  as^^ring  man  in  the  ship;  climbing  seemed 
born  in  him,  for  it  was  impossible  to  confine  him  to  the  hold  or  tho 
dock ;  up  he  must  go — up  to  the  clouds,  if  the  mast  would  only 
have  reached  so  high  ;  and  there  ho  would  sit  or  lie,'  with  the  sky 
above,  and  the  sea  below,  as  comfortable  and  as  independent  as  if 
he  were  sitting  crosslegged  upon  his  board  in  a  garret  of  one  of  the 
dark,  lofty  wynds  of  the  ancicut  town  of  Leith. 


I 


210 


r  I.OKA     I.YXnSAV. 


Ii 


The  Captain  wa3  so  tlclighted  with  .Saudy  Rob's  luspiring  spirit, 
that  hi!  writ'ii  held  jocose  dialogues  witii  him  fr(jm  the  deck. 

"  Hallo,  Sandy!  what  news  above  there?  Can't  you  petition 
the  clerk  of  the  weather  to  give  ns  a  fair  wind  V 

"  Na',  Captain,  I'm  thinkin'  it's  of  na'  nse  until  the  change  o' 
the  niunc.  I'll  keep  a  gude  look  out,  un'  gie  ye  the  furst  ijitelli- 
genco  o'  that  event." 

"  And  what  keeps  you  broiling  up  there  in  the  full  blaze  of  the 
Kun,  Sandy  ?     The  women  say  that  they  are  wanting  you  below." 

"  That's' niair  than  I'm  wantin'  o'  them.  My  pleasure's  above— 
their's  is  u'  bcjlow,  I'm  jist  thinkin',  it's  better  to  be  here  biisking 
in  the  broad  sunshine,  thaJi  deefened  wi'  a'  they  clavers  ;  breathin' 
the  celler  air,  than  sulfoeuted  wi'  the  stench  o'  that  pit  o'  iniipiity, 
the  hould.  An'  as  to  wha'  I'm  doin'  up  here,  I'm  jesL  lookin'  out; 
to  get  the  furst  glijit  o'  the  blessed  green  earth." 

"  You'll  be  tanned  as  bla<;k  as  a  nigger,  Sandy,  before  you  scie 
the  hill-tops  again.  If  we  go  on  ut  this  rate,  the  summer  will  slip 
past  us  altogether." 

Often  during  the  niglit  he  would  cry  out,  "  IIo,  Sandy  1  are  you 
up  there,  man?  What  of  the  night,  watchman — what  of  the 
night?" 

''  Steady,  Captain — steady.     No  land  yet  in  sight." 

And  13orea.s  would  answer  with  u  loud  gufl'awn,  "  If  we  were  in 
the  British  Channel,  tailor,  I'd  be.  bound  that  you'd  keep  a  good 
look-out  for  the  needle's  tye."  ! 

The  shoenuikers,  in  disposition  and  appearance,  Avcrp  quite  tl:e 
reverse  of  the  little  tailor.  They  were  a  pair  of  slow  coaches, 
heavy,  lumpish  men,  who  would  as  soon  have  attempted  a  ride  to 
the  moon  on  a  broomstick,  as  Iiave  ventured  two  yards  up  the  mast. 
They  were  indefatigable  eaters  and  smokers,  always  cooking,  and 
puffing  forth  smoke  from  their  short,  brass-lidded  pipes.  They 
never  attinnptcd  a  song,  still  less  to  join  in  the  nightly  dance  on 
deck,  which  the  others  performed  with  such  spirit,  and  entered  into 
with  such  a  keen  relish,  that  their  limbs  seemed  strung  upon  wires. 
They  seldom  spoke,  but  sat  upon  the  deck  looking  on  with  listless 
eyes,  as  the  rest  bounded  past  them,  revelling  in  the  very  madness 
of  mirth. 

Gordie  AEuckleroy,  the  elder  of  the  twain,  was  a  stout,  clumsy- 
made  man,  whose  head  was  stuck  into  his  broad,  rounded  shoulders, 
like  the  handle  of  his  body,  that  had  grown  so  stilF  from  his  stolid 


m.: 


FLORA    I.YNDSAY. 


211 


way  of  thinking  (if  indcctl  he  ever  thought)  and  his  scdentury 
habits,  that  he  sceniod  to  nmvc  it  with  great  (iidicully,  and,  in 
answering  a  question,  invariably  turned  his  whole  frame  to  the 
speaker.  He  had  a  large,  flabby,  jiutty-eolored  I'aee,  deeply  niarkeii 
with  the  sniall-pox,  from  which  eruel,  disfiguring  malady,  he  and 
his  brother  Jock  seemed  to  have  siillered  in  eommon.  A  pair  of  lit- 
tle, black,  meaningless  eyes  looked  like  blots  in  his  heavy  visagt^ — ■ 
while  a  profusion  of  black,  coarse,  dirty  hair,  cut  very  short,  stuck 
up  on  end  all  over  his  Hat  head,  like  the  bristles  in  a  scrubbing- 
brush,  lie  certainly  might  have  taken  the  prize  for  ugliness  in  the 
celebrated  club  which  the  Spectator  has  innnortalized.  Yet  tliis 
hideous,  unintellectuallookiug  animal  hud  a  wife,  a  neat,  seihiible 
looking  woman,  every  way  his  sujjericjr,  both  in  jjcrson  and  intelli- 
gence. She  was  evidently  some  years  older  than  her  husband,  and 
had  left  a  nobleman's  service,  in  which  she  had  been  cook  for  a 
long  period,  to  accompany  Gordie  as  his  bride  across  the  Atlantic. 
Like  niost  women,  wlio  late  in  life  marry  very  }oung  men,  slio 
regarded  her  mate  as  a  most  suj)erior  person,  and  jiaid  him  very 
lonihg  attentions,  which  he  received  with  the  most  stoical  indifl'er- 
ence,  and  at  which  the  rest  of  the  males  laughed,  making  constant 
fun  of  Gordie  and  his  old  girl.  Jock  w:vs  the  counterpart  of  liis 
brother  in  manners  and  disposition  ;  but  his  head  was  adorned  with 
a  red  scrubbing-brush,  instead  of  a  black  one,  and  his  white,  freckled 
face  half  covered  witli  carrotty  whiskers.  The  trio  were  so  poor, 
that  ^ifter  having  pi  .id  their  passage  money,  they  only  possesscxl 
among  them  a  solitary  sixpence. 

Flora  liad  hired  Mrs.  .Muckleroy  to  attend  upon  her  and  tiio 
child  during  the  voyage,  at  a  dollar  a  week,  which  the  poor  woman 
looked  upon  as  a  Godsend,  and  was  kind  and  attentive  in  proportion 
to  the  gratitude  she  felt  for  this  unexpected  addition  to  their  scanty 
means. 

The  day  after  they  reached  the  banks  of  Ncw-Foundland,  and 
the  ship  was  going  pretty  smartly  through  the  water,  Geordie  hung 
his  woollen  jacket  over  the  ship's  side  while  he  performed  his  ablu- 
tions, and  a  sudden  puft'  of  wind  carried  it  overboard. 

Mrs.  Lyndsay  was  sitting  upon  the  deck  with  Josey  in  her  arms, 
when  she  heard  a  plunge  into  the  water,  followed  by  a  loud  shriek, 
and  Mrs.  Muckleroy  fell  to  the  deck  in  a  swoon. 

The  cry  of  "  a  man  overboard  I — a  man  overboard  !"  now  rang 
through  the  sliip.     Every  one  present  sprang  to  their  feet,  and 


*•! 


¥ 


l| 


212 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


nisliod  to  the  siJo  of  tlio  vessel,  looking  about  in  all  directions,  to 
see  the  missing  individual  rise  to  the  surface  of  the  water,  and 
Flora  among  the  rest. 

Presently  a  black  head  emerged  irom  the  waves,  and  two  hands 
were  held  up  in  a  deplorable,  bewildered  manner,  and  the  groat 
lilauk  face  looked  towards  the  skies  with  a  glance  of  astonishment, 
as  if  the  owner  could  not  yet  comprehend  his  danger,  and  scarcely 
realised  his  awful  situation.  lie  looked  just  like  a  seal,  or  some 
uncouth  monster  of  the  deep,  who,  having  ventured  to  the  surface, 
V  as  confounded  by  looking  the  snn  in  the  face,  and  was  too  much 
fi-iglitencd  to  retreat. 

Lyndsay,  the  moment  he  heard  the  man  plunge  into  the  sea,  had 
seized  a  coil  of  rope  that  lay  upon  the  deck,  and,  running  forward, 
hurled  it  with  a  strong  arm  in  the  direction  in  which  Muckleroy 
had  disappeared.  Just  at  the  critical  moment  when  the  a])paritioti 
of  the  shoemaker  rose  above  the  waves,  it  fell  within  the  length 
of  his  grasp,  1'he  poor  fellow,  now  fully  awake  to  the  horrors  of 
his  fate,  seized  it  with  convulsive  eneri>-v,  and  was  drawn  to  the  side 
of  the  ve3st!l,  where  two  sailors  were  already  hanging  in  the  chains, 
with  onother  rope  fixed  with  a  running  noose  at  one  end,  which 
they  succeedi.'d  in  throwing  over  his  body,  and  drawing  him  saf(,'!y 
to  the  dock. 

And  then,  the  joy  of  the  poor  wife,  who  had  just  recovered  from 
her  swoon,  at  receiving  her  dead  to  life,  was  quite  affecting,  while 
he,  regardless  of  her  caressos,  only  shook  his  wet  garments,  exclaim- 
ing— "  My  jacket !  my  jacket,  Xell,  I  iiave  lost  my  jacket.  "What 
can  a  man  do,  want  in'  a  jacket  ?" 

This  speech  was  rcceis'cd  with  a  general  roar  of  laughter,  the 
poor  woman  and  her  spouse  being  the  only  parties  from  whom  it 
did  iiot  win  a  smile. 

''  Confound  the  idiot  I"'  cried  old  TJoreas  ;  "  he  thinks  more  of  his 
old  jacket,  that  was  not  worth  i)ickiiig  off  a  dunghill,  than  of  his 
wife  and  his  own  safety.  AVhy  man."  turning  to  the  shoemaker,  who 
was  dripping  like  a  water-dog,  "  wluit  tempted  you  to  jump  into  the 
sea  when  you  could  not  swim  a  stroke  ?"  '  " 

"  My  jacket,"  continued  the  son  of  Crispin,  Staring  wildly  at  hia 
saturated  garments  ;  "  It  was  the  only  one  I  had.  Oh,  my  jacket ! 
my  jacket !" 

Strange  that  such  a  dull  piece  of  still  life  should  risk  his  life  for 
a  jacket,  and  au  old  one  that  had  seen  good  service  and  was  quite 


\mi 


m 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


213 


threadbare  :  but  necessity  replies,  it  was  his  only  garment.  A  rich 
person  can  scarcely  compreliend  the  magnitude  of  the  loss  of  an  only 
jacket  to  a  poor  man. 

No  one  was  more  amused  by  the  adventure  of  the  jacket,  than 
Stephen  Corrie,  who  wrote  a  comic  song  on  the  subject,  which 
Duncan  the  fiddler  set  to  i..^dic,  and  used  to  sing,  to  the  great  an- 
noyance of  the  hero  of  the  tale,  whenever  he  ventured  in  his  shirt 
Blecves  upon  the  deck. 

The  Duncans,  for  there  were  two  of  them,  were  both  Highlanders, 
and  played  with  much  skill  on  the  violin.  They  were  two  fine,  honest, 
handsome  fellows,  who,  with  their  music  and  singing,  kept  alPthn 
rest  alive.  Directly  the  sun  set,  the  lively  notes  of  their  fiddles  called 
young  and  old  to  the  deck,  and  Scotch  reels,  highland  flings,  and 
sailors'  hornpipes  were  danced  till  late  at  night — often  until  the 
broad  beams  of  the  rising  sun  warned  the  revellers  that  it  was  time 
to  rost. 

The  Captain  and  the  Lyndsays  never  joined  the  dancers ;  but  it 
Wiis  a  pretty  sight  to  watch  them  leaping  and  springing,  full  of 
agility  and  life,  beneath  the  clear  beams  of  the  sununer  moon. 

The  for"i03t  in  the«c  nightly  revels,  was  a  young  Highlander 
Cfiiled  Tarn  Grant,  who  never  gave  over  while  a  female  in  the  ship 
could  continue  on  her  legs.  If  he  lacked  a  partner,  he  would  seize 
hold  of  the  old  beldame.  Granny  Williamson,  and  twist  and  twirl 
her  around  at  top  speed,  never  heeding  the  kicking,  scratching,  and 
skrieking  of  the  withered  old  crone.  Setting  to  her,  and  nodding 
at  her  with  the  tassel  of  the  red  nightcap  he  wore,  hanging  so  jaun- 
tily over  his  left  eye,  that  it  would  have  made  the  fortune  ot  a  comic 
actor  to  imitate — a  perfect  impersonification  of  mischief  and  wild 
mirth. 

By-and-by  the  old  granny  not  only  got  used  to  his  mad  capers, 
but  evidently  enjoyed  them,  and  used  to  challenge  Tam  for  her  part- 
ner ;  and  if  he  happened  to  have  engaged  a  younger  and  lighter 
pair  of  heels,  she  would  retire  to  her  den  below,  cursing  him  for  a 
rude  fellow,  in  no  lullaby  strains. 

And  there  was  big  Marion — &  tall,  stout,  yellow-haired  girl, 
from  Berwickshire — who  had  ventured  out  all  alone  to  cross  the  wide 
Atlantic  to  join  her  brother  in  the  far  west  of  Canada,  who  was 
the  admiration  of  all  the  sailors  on  board,  and  the  adored  of  the 
two  Duncans.    Yet  she  danced  just  as  lightly  as  a  cow,  and  shook 


214 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


her  fat  sides  and  jumped  and  bounded  through  the  Scotch  reels, 
much  in  the  same  fashion  that  they  did,  when — 

"  She  up  and  waHopcd  o'er  the  green, 
Far  brawly  she  coulJ  frisk  it. " 

Marion  had  had  many  wooers  since  she  came  on  board  ;  but  she 
laughed  at  all  her  lovers,  and  if  they  attempted  to  take  any  liber- 
ties with  her,  she  threatened  to  call  them  out  if  they  did  not  keep 
their  distance,  for  she  had  "a  lad  o'  her  aiu  in  Canada,  an'  she 
did'na  care  a  bodle  for  them  an'  their  clavcrs." 

Yet,  in  spile  of  her  boasted  constancy,  it  was  pretty  evident  to 
Flora  that  Rab  Duncan  was  fiddling  his  way  fast  into  the  buxom 
Marion's  heart ;  and  she  thought  it  more  'than  probable  that  he 
would  succeed  in  persuading  her  to  follow  his  fortunest  instead  of 
seeking  a  home  with  her  brother  and  her  old  sweetheart  in  the  far 
west. 

There  was  one  sour-looking,  puritanical  person  on  board,  who 
regarded  the  music  and  dancing  with  which  the  poor  emigrants 
beguiled  the  tedium  of  the  long  voyage  with  silent  horror.  He  was 
a  minister  of  some  dissenting  church  ;  but  to  which  of  the  many 
he  belonged.  Flora  never  felt  sufficiently  interested  in  the  man  to 
inquire.  His  countenance  exhibited  a  strange  mixture  of  morose 
ill-humor,  shrewdness,  and  hypocrisy.  While  he  considered  him- 
self a  vessel  of  grace,  chosen  and  sanctified,  he  looked  upon  those 
around  him  as  vessels  of  wrath,  only  fitted  for  destruction.  In  his 
eyes  they  were  already  damned,  and  only  waited  for  tlie  execution 
of  their  just  sentence.  Whenever  J:he  dancing  commenced,  ho 
went  below  and  brought  up  his  Bible,  which  he  spread  most  osten- 
tatiously on  his  knees,  turning  up  the  whites  of  his  eyes  to  heaven, 
and  uttering  very  audible  groans  between  the  pauses  in  the  music. 
What  the  subject  of  his  meditations  were  is  best  known  to  himself; 
but  no  one  could  look  at  his  low  head,  sly,  sinister-looking  eyes, 
and  malevolent  scowl,  and  imagine  him  a  messenger  of  the  glad 
tidings  that  speak  of  peace  and  good-will  to  man.  He  seemed  like 
one  who  would  rather  call  down  the  fire  from  heaven  to  destroy, 
than  to  learn  the  meaning  of  the  Christ-spoken  text — "  I  will  have 
mercy  and  not  sacrifice." 

Between  this  man  and  Mr.  Leatie  a  sort  of  friendship  had  sprung 
up,  and  they  might  constantly  be  seen  about  ten  o'clock,  p.  m., 
seated  beneath  the  shade  of  the  boat,  wrangling  and  disputing 


FLORA     LYXDSAY. 


215 


about  contested  points  of  faith,  contradicting  and  dcnonncing  their 
respective  creeds  in  an  unchristianlike  manner,  each  failing  to  con- 
vince the  other,  or  gaining  the  least  upon  his  opponent. 

"  That  is  the  religion  of  words,"  said  Lyndsay,  one  day  to  Flora, 

afl  they  had  been  for  some  time  silent  list^^ners  to  one  of  Mr.  S 's 

fierce  arguments  on  predestination — "  I  wonder  how  that  man's 
actions  would  agree  with  liis  boasted  sanctity  ?" 

"  Tjct  him  alone,"  said  Flora ;  "  time  will  perhaps  show.  I  havo 
no  faith  in  him."  ' 

For  three  weeks  the  Anne  was  becalmed  upon  the  banks.  They 
were  surrounded  bv  a  dense  focr,  which  hid  even  the  water  from 
their  sight,  while  the  beams  of  sun  and  moon  failed  to  ponetnito 
the  white  vapor  that  closed  them  in  on  every  side.  It  was  no 
longer  a  pleasure  to  pace  the  deck  in  the  raw,  damp  air  and  driz- 
zling rain,  which  tamed  even  the  little  tailor's  aspiring  soul,  and 
checked  the  merry  dancers  and  the  voice  of  mirth.  Flora  retreated 
to  the  cabin,  and  road  all  the  books  in  the  little  cupboard  at  her 
bed-head".  A  "  Life  of  Charles  XII.  of  Sweden,"  an  odd  volume 
of  "  Pamela,"  and  three  of  "  The  Children  of  the  Abbey."  com- 
prised the  Captain's  librar}'.  What  could  she  do  to  while  away 
the  lagging  hours  ?  She  thought  and  rethought.  At  lengtlf  she 
determined  to  wca\o  some  strange  incidents,  that  chance  had 
thrown  in  her  way,  into  a  story,  which  might  amuse  her  mind  from 
dwelling  too  much  upon  the  future,  and  interest  her  husband.  So, 
unpacking  her  Avriting-desk,  she  drew  forfh  a  quire  of  genuine 
fool's-cap,  and  set  to  work  ;  and  we  here  give  to  our  readers,  as  a 
literary  curiosity,  the  talc  that  Flora  Lyndsay  wrote  at  sea.  If 
the  character  of  tlic  story  should  prove  rather  vapory,  consider  the 
circumstances  under  which  it  first  saw  the  light — in  the  confined 
cabin  of  a  little  brig,  and  written  amidst  fog  and  rain,  becalmed 
upon  that  dreary  portion  of  the  Atlantic,  yclept  "  the  banks  of 
Newfoundland." 


Illtaj 

Wm 

t 

i|i 

i 

^€1 

il] 

'i;i 


^ 


216 


Fl.OnA     LYXDSAY. 


CHAPTER    XXXIV. 


NO  All     COTTON. 

[nrB  STORY   FLORA  WRarS  AT  SK.\.] 


THK    WIDOW    GRIMSHAWE    AND    HER   NEIGHBORS. 


On  the  road  to 


a  small  seaport  town  on  the  cast  coast  of 


Euglaud,  there  stood,  in  my  young  days,  an  old-fashioned,  high- 
gabled,  red-brick  cottage.  The  honsc  was  divid(xl  into  two  tene- 
ments, the  doors  opening  in  the  centre  of  the  building.  A  rustic 
porch  shaded  the  entrance  to  the  left  from  the  scorching  rays  of 
the  sun  and  the  clouds  of  dust  that  during  the  summer  months  rose 
from  the  public  road  in  front.  Some  person,  whose  love  of  nature 
liad  survived  amidst  the  crushing  cares  of  poverty,  had  twined 
around  the  rude  trelliswork  the  deliciously-fragrant  branches  of 
the  ferier-rosc,  which,  during  the  months  of  June  and  July,  loaded 
the  air  with  its  sweet  breath. 

The  door  to  the  right,  although  unmarked  by  sign  or  chequer- 
board,  opened  into  a  low  hedge-tavern  of  very  ill  repute,  well  known 
through  the  country  by  the  name  of  the  "  Brig's  Foot,"  which 
it  derived  from  its  near  proximity  to  the  bridge  that  crossed  the 
river.  A  slow-moving,  muddy  stream,  whose  brackish  waters 
seemed  to  have  fallen  asleep  upon  tlieir  bed  of  fat,  black  ooze,  while 
creeping  onward  to  the  sea,  through  a  long  flat  expanse  of  dreary 
marshes. 

The  "  Brig's  Foot"  was  kept  by  the  Widow  Msison  and  her 
eon,  both  persons  of  notoriously  bad  character.  The  old  man  had 
been  killed  a  few  months  before,  in  a  drunken  brawl  with  soino 
smugglers  ;   and  his  name  was  held  in  such  ill  odor  that  his  ghost 

was  reported  to  haunt  the  road  that  led  to  C churchyard, 

which  formed  the  receptacle,  but  it  would  seem  not  the  resting- 
place,  of  the  dead.  •  . 

None  but  persons  of  the  very  lowest  description  frequented  the 
tavern.  Beggars  made  it  their  head-quarters;  smugglers  and 
poachers  their  hiding-place ;  and  sailors,  on  shore  for  a  spree,  the 


'm^ff^tmn.m  u  i^Mji 


FLORA     LYNDSAY. 


21t 


Ichyaril, 
Iresting- 

ited  tbc 
trs    and 

irce,  the 


fiwne  of  their  drunken  revels.  The  honest  laborer  sluinned  the 
threshold  as  a  moral  pest-house,  and  the  tirwl  traveller,  who  called 
there  once,  seldom  repeated  the  visit.  The  magistrates,  who  ought 
to  have  put  down  the  place  as  a  pul)lic  nuisance,  winked  at  it  as  a 
necessary  evil — the  more  to  be  tolerated,  as  it  was  half  a  mile  be- 
yond the  precincts  of  the  town.         '      ■  '       :  '    -  ' 

Outwardly  the  place  had  some  attractive  features — it  was  kept 
EG  scrupulously  clean.  The  walls  were  so  white,  the  floor  so  neatly 
eaLded,and  the  pewter  pots  glittered  so  cheerily  on  the  polished  oak 
table  that  served  for  a  bar,  that  a  casual  observer  might  rcas()ii;il)Iy 
have  expected  very  comfortable  and  respectable  acconmiodation 
from  a  scene  which,  though  on  an  huml^lc  scale,  promised  so  fair. 
Even  the  sleek,  well-fed  tabby  cat  purral  so  poacefully  on  the  door- 
sill,  tluit  she  seemed  to  invite  the  pedestrian  to  shelter  and  repose. 

Martha  Mason,  the  unstress  of  the  doniicil.  was  a  bad  woman, 
iu  the  fullest  sense  of  the  woid — cunning,  hard-liearted,  and  ava- 
ricious, without  pity,  and  without  remorse — a  creature  so  hardened 
in  the  wavs  of  sin.  that  conscience  had  long  ceased  to  offer  the  least 
resistance  to  the  jjcrjx.'tration  of  crime.  Unfeminine  in  mind  and 
person,  you  could  scarcely  persuade  yourself  that  the  coarse, 
harsh  features,  and  bristling  hair  about  the  upper  lip,  belonged  to 
a  fenuile,  had  not  the  tameless  tongue,  ever  active  in  abuse  a;id 
malice,  asserted  its  claim  to  the  weaker  sex,  and  rated  and  scolded 
through  the  long  day,  as  none  but  the  tongue  of  a  bad  woman  can 
rate  and  scold.  An  accident  had  deprived  the  hideous  old  crone  of 
the  use  of  one  of  her  legs,  which  she  dragged  aftr  her  with  tho 
help  of  a  crutch  ;  and  though  she  could  not  move  quickly  in  conse- 
ijuence  of  her  lameness,  she  was  an  excellent  hand  at  quickening 
the  motions  of  those  who  had  the  misfortime  to  be  under  her 
control. 

Her  son  Robert,  who  went  by  the  familiar  appellation  of  "  Bully 
Bob,"  was  tho  counterpart  of  his  mother — a  lazy,  drunken  black- 
guard, who  might  be  seen  fr-om  morning  till  night  lounging,  with 
his  pipe  in  his  mouth,  on  the  w(>ll-\vorn  settle  at  the  door,  humming 
Bonie  low  ribald  song  to  chase  avrav  the  laorging  hours,  till  the 
shades  of  evening  roused  him  from  his  sluggish  stupor,  to  mingle 
with  gamblers  and  thieves  in  their  low  debauch.  The  expression 
of  this  young  man's  face  was  so  bad,  and  his  manners  and  language 
so  coarse  and  obscene,  that  he  was  an  object  of  dislike  and  dread 
t^  his  low  associate",  who  regarded  him  as  a  fit  subject  for  the 

10 


?!    'ii 


*    m 


Ljpi|i|,iii  trv^mfimmv 


218 


FLORA    LYND3AY. 


gallows  In  the  ej'os  of  his  mother,  Bob  Miison  waa  a  very  fine 
youn;^  man — a  desirable  mate  for  any  farmer's  daughter  in  the 
conntry. 

The  old  Spanish  proverb,  "  Poverty  makes  a  man  acquainted 
with  strange  bedfellows,"  w;us  never  more  fully  exemplified  than  in 
the  case  of  these  people  and  their  next  door  neighbors,-  • . 

Dorothy  Orimshawc;  was  the  widow  of  a  fis'herman,  whose  boat 
foundered  in  the  dreadfid  storm  of  the  lOth  of  October,  1824.  Like 
many  others,  who  saileil  from  the  little  ]>ort  high  in  health  and 
hope,  exp'jcting  to  reap  a  fine  harvest  from  the  vast  shoals  of  her- 
rings that  annually  visit  tint  cosist,  Daniel  Grimshawe  fell  a  prey 
to  the  spoiler.  Death,  that  stern  fisher  of  men. 

The  following  morning,  after  the  subsidence  of  the  gale,  the  beach 
for  miles  was  strewn  with  pieces  of  wreck,  and  the  bodies  of  forty 
drowned  men  were  cast  at^horo.  itost  of  these  proved  to  Ix;  native* 
of  the  town,  and  the  bodies  were  carried  to  the  town-hall,  and- 
notice  was  sent  to  the  wives  of  the  al)seut  fishermen  to  come  and 
claim  their  dead. 

This  awful  summons  quickly  collected  a  crowd  to  tbc  spot. 
Many  anxiotis  women  and  children  were  tliere,  and  Dorothy  Grim- 
shawe and  her  little  ones  cnme  with  the  rest. 

"  Thank  the  ^od  God  I  my  man  is  not  there,"  scud  a  poor 
woman,  coming  out  with  her  apron  to  her  fa^e.  "  The  Lord  save 
us — "lis  a  fearsome  sight." 

'  He  may  be  food  for  the  crabs  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea,"  said  a 
hoarse  voice  from  the  crowd.  "  Yon  are  not  going  to  flatter  your- 
self, Nancy,  that  you  arc  better  off  than  the  rest." 

•'  Oh,  oh,  oh!"  shrieked  the  poor  woman,  thus  deprived  by  envy 
of  the  anchor  of  hope  to  which  she  clung,  "  I  trusted  in  the  mercy 
of  God  ;  I  could  not  look  to  the  bottom  of  the  salt  deep." 

"  Trust  to  Ilim  yet,  Nancy,  and  all  will  bo  well,"  said  an  old, 
weather-beaten  tar.  "It  is  Ho  who  rules  the  winds  and  waves, 
and  brings  tltc  stornvtossed  ship  into  a  safe  harbor." 

"  But  what  has  He  done  for  these  |X)or  men  ?    Were  they  worse 
hftTi  tLerost?"  sobbed  Nancy. 

t  ^^iT  m  to  bring  to  light  what  Tie  has  left  in  darkness." 
'  .  f';?  ailor.  "  lie  tOok  three  fine  lads  of  mine  in  one  nighty 
lui'  ..''"■  ■  '^  '  idloss.  But  it  is  not  for  the  like  o'  me  to  murmur 
agaiUoo  Ai  ■ ,  I  always  trusted  to  His  providence,  and  I  found 
that  it  gave  rae  strength  in  the  hour  of  danger." 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


219 


"  Dorothy/'  he  cried,  turning  to  Mrs.  Grimshaw«,  "  it  is  your 
turn  to  go  in.  It's  no  use  crying  and  hanging  back.  Mayhap 
Dan  has  escaped  the  storm,  an'  is  spreading  a  white  sheet  to  the 
fine,  fresh  breeze  this  morning." 

"  My  heart  feels  as  cold  as  a  stone,"  sobbed  Dorothy ;  "  I  daro 
not  go  forward  ;  I  feel — I  know  that  he  is  there." 

"  Shall  I  go  for  you  ?    I  have  known  Dan  from  a  boy." 

"  Oh,  no,  no ;  I  must  see  with  my  own  eyes,"  said  Dorothy ; 
*'  nothing  else  will  convince  me  that  he  is  either  saved  or  lost ;" 
and  she  hurried  into  the  hall. 

0 

Trembling  with  apprehension,  the  poor  woman  entered  the  mel- 
ancholy place  of  death.  The  bodies  were  arranged  in  rows  along 
the  floor,  and  covered  decently  with  coarse,  clean  sheets.  The 
mournful  and  mysterious  silence  which  always  broods  above  the 
dead,  was  broken  by  sighs  and  sobs — wives,  mothers,  sisters,  and 
little  children  were  collected  in  heartrending  groups  around  some 
uncovered  and  dearly-loved  face,  whose  glassy  eyes,  staring  and 
motionless,  were  alike  unconscious  of  their  presence  and  their 
tears. 

Mrs.  Grimshawe  recoiled  with  a  sudden  backward  «top — "  What 
if  Dan  is  here?"  She  pressed  her  hands  tightly  upon  uer  breast — 
the  stifled  cry  of  agony  and  fear  that  burst  from  her  lips,  nearly 
choked  her  ;  she  clutched  at  the  bare  walls  for  support,  and  panted 
and  gasped  for  breath. 

A  little  humpbacked  child,  after  casting  upon  her  mother  a  look 
of  unutterable  pity,  slowly  advanced  to  the  first  shrouded  figure, 
and,  kneeling  down,  reverentially  lifted  the  sheet,  and  gazed  long 
and  sadly  upon  the  object  beneath.  "  Father !"  murmered  the 
child  ;  no  other  word  escaped  her  quivering  lips.  She  meekly  laid 
her  head  upon  the  dead  seaman's  breast,  and  kissed  his  cold  lips 
and  brow  with  devoted  affection.  Tlien,  rising  from  her  knees, 
she  went  to  her  pale,  weeping,  distressed  mother,  and,  taking  her 
gently  by  the  hand,  led  her  up  to  the  ol)ject  of  her  search. 

The  winds  and  waves  arc  sad  disfigurers  ;  but  Mrs.  Grinishawe 
instantly  recognised,  in  the  distorted  features,  so  marred  in  their 
conflict  with  the  elements,  the  husband  of  her  youth,  the  father  of 
her  orphan  children  ;  and,  with  a  loud  shriek,  she  fell  npon  the 
bosom  of  the  dead.  Rough,  pitiful  hands  lifted  her  up,  and  un- 
clasped the  rigid  fingers  that  tightened  about  his  neck,  and  bore 
the  widow  tenderly  back  to  her  desolate  home. 


■I 

m 

ipii 

m 

li 

m 

m^ 

1 

>  i 

1; 

H 

'■«  i 

m 

•i  m 


■J?   ■  ■■?;  . 


.pu  '.iiup 


220 


FLORA     LTNDSAY. 


"Weeks  went  by,  and  the  fisherman  slept  in  his  peaceful  grave. 
Ills  little  children  had  ceased  to  weep  and  ask  for  their  father^ 
before  Dorothy  Grirashawc  awoke  to  a  consciousness  of  her  terrible 
loss  and  altered  fortunes.  During  the  period  of  her  mental  derange- 
ment, her  wants  had  been  supplied  by  some  charitable  ladies  in  the 
neighborhood.  Shortly  after  her  restoration  to  reason,  a  further 
trial  awaited  her :  she  became  the  victim  of  palsy  ;  in  the  meridian 
of '4ife  she  found  her  physical  strength  prostrate,  and  her  body  a 
useless,  broken  machine,  no  longer  responsive  to  the  guidance,  or 
obedient  to  the  will  of  its  possessor.  An  active  mind,  shut  up  in 
a  dead  body — au  imprisoned  bird,  vainly  beating  itself  against  the 
walls  of  its  cage.  Human  nature  could  scarcely  furnish  a  more 
melancholy  spectacle ;  speech,  sight  and  hearing,  were  still  hers, 
but  the  means  of  locomotion  were  lost  to  her  for  ever. 

The  full  extent  of  her  calamity  did  not  strike  her  at  first. 
Hope  whispered  that  the  loss  of  the  use  of  her  lower  limbs  was 
only  temporary,  brought  on  by  the  anguish  of  her  mind — that  time 
and  the  doctor's  medicines  would  restore  her  to  health  and  use- 
fulness. 

Alas,  poor  Dorothy !  How  long  did  you  cling  to  these  vain 
hopes !  How  reluctantly  did  you  at  last  admit  that  your  case  was 
hopeless — that  death  could  alone  release  you  from  a  state  of  helpless 
sutfering!  Then  came  terrible  thoughts  of  the  workhouse  for 
yourself  and  your  children ;  and  the  drop  was  ever  upon  your 
cheek — the  sigh  rising  constantly  to  your  lips.  Be  patient,  poor, 
afflicted  one  :  God  has  smitten,  but  not  forsaken  you.  Pity  still 
lives  in  the  human  heart,  and  help  is  nearer  than  you  think. 

In  her  early  life  Dorothy  had  lived  for  several  years  nursery-maid 
in  a  clergyman's  family.  One  of  the  children,  entrusted  to  her  care, 
had  loved  her  very  sincerely ;  he  was  now  a  wealthy  merchant  in 
the  to'wn.  When  Mr.  Rollins  heard  of  her  distress,  he  hastened  to 
comfort  and  console  her.  He  gave  her  part  of  the  red-brick  cot- 
tage, rent  free,  for  the  rest  of  her  life ;  sent  her  two  youngest 
daughters  to  school,  ancT  settled  a  small  annuity  upon  her,  which, 
though  inadequate  to  the  wants  of  one  so  perfectly  dependent, 
greatly  ameliorated  the  woes  of  her  condition.  Dorothy  had  resided 
several  yejirs  in  the  cottage,  before  the  Masons  came  to  live  uiider 
the  same  roof.  They  soon  showed  what  manner  of  people  they 
were,  and  annoyeti  the  poor  widow  with  their  rude  and  riotous  mode 
of  life.    But  f'omplaints  were  useless.    Mr.  Rollins  was  travelling 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


221 


with  his  bride  on  the  continent ;  and  his  steward,  who  had  accepted 
the  Masons  for  tenants,  laughed  at  Dorothy's  objections  to  their 
character  and  occupation,  bluntly  telling  hor  "  that  beggars  could 
not  be  choosers — that  she  niight  be  thankful  that  she  had  a  com- 
fortable, warm  roof  over  her  head,  without  having  to  work  hard  for 
it  like  her  neighbors."  She  acknowledged  the  truth  of  the  remark, 
and  endeavored  to  submit  to  her  fate  with  patience  and  resigna- 
tion. • 


ii 


Mi 


CHAPTER    XXXV. 


THE   SISTERS. 


!     ."^  4  i' 


Mrs.  GrimsiiawiJ's  eldest  daughter,  Mary,  the  poor  hunchback 
before  alluded  to,  was  a  great  comfort  to  her  afflicted  parent.  She 
Bcldom  left  her  bed-side,  and  was  ever  at  hand  to  administer  to  her 
wants.  Mary  was  a  neat  and  rapid  plain  sewer  ;  and  she  contrib- 
uted greatly  to  her  mother's  support,  by  the  dexterity  with  which 
she  plied  her  needle.  Her  deformity,  which  was  rendcrc<l  doubly 
conspicuous  by  her  diminutive  stature,  was  not  the  only  disadvan- 
tage under  which  Mary  Grinishawe  labored.  She  was  afflictx^l 
with  such  an  impediment  in  her  speech,  that  it  was  only  the  mem- 
bers of  her  own  family  that  could  at  all  understand  the  meaning 
of  the  uncouth  sounds  in  which  she  tried  to  communicate  her  ideas. 
So  sensible  was  she  of  this  terrible  defect,  and  the  ridicule  it  drew 
upon  her  from  thoughtless  and  unfeeling  people,  that  she  seldom 
spoke  to  strangers,  and  was  considered  by  many  as  both  deaf  and 
dumb. 

Poor  Mary!  she  was  one  of  the  meekest  of  Cod's  creatures — a 
most  holy  martyr  to  patience  and  filial  love.  "What  a  warm  heart 
— what  depths  of  tenderness  and  afTcction  dwelt  in  the  cramped 
confines  of  that  little  misshapen  body  !  Virtue  in  her  was  like  a 
bright  star  seen  steadily  shining  through  the  heavy  clouds  of  a 
dark  night.  The  traveller,  cheered  by  its  beams,  forgot  the  black- 
ness and  gloom  of  the  surrounding  atmosphere. 

How  distinctly  I  can  recall  that  plain,  earnest  face,  after  the 
long  lapse  of  years  !  the  dark,  sallow  checks  ;  the  deep,  sunken,  piti- 
ful, pleading  eyes  ;  those  intelligent,  deep-set,  iron-grey  eyes,  that 
served  her  for  a  tongue,  and  were  far  more  eloquent  than  speech,  as 
they  gleamed  from  beneath  her  strongly-marked,  jet-black  eyebrows  j 


B* 


Hi 


222 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


the  thin  Hpa  that  seldom  unclosed  to  give  utterance  to  what  was 
passing  in  her  mind,  and  that  never  smiled,  yet  held  such  a  treasure 
of  pearls  within.  Nature  had  so  completely  separated  her  from 
her  kind,  that  mirth  would  have  ajipeared  out  of  ])lace.  She  v/aa 
plain  in  form  and  feature,  but  the  beauty  of  the  soul  enshrined  in 
that  humble,  misshapen  tenement,  shed  over  her  personal  deformi- 
ties a  spiritual  and  holy  light. 

From  the  time  of  her  father's  death,  Mary  had  worked  steadily 
at  her  needle  to  support  herself  and  the  rest  of  the  family.  'J'lie 
constant  assiduity  with  which  she  plied  her  task,  greatly  increased 
the  projection  of  her  shoulder,  and  brought  on  an  occasional  spit- 
ting of  blood,  which  resulted  from  a  low,  hacking  cough.  The 
parish  doctor,  who  attended  her  bed-ridden  mother,  and  who  felt 
interested  in  her  good,  dutiful  child,  assured  her  that  she  must  give 
up  her  sedentary  employment,  or  death  would  quickly  terminate 
her  labor. 

"  But  how,  then,"  asked  Mary,  "  can  I  contribute  to  the  support 
of  the  family?  My  mother's  helpless  condition  requires  my  con- 
stant exertions.    If  I  cease  to  work,  she  must  starve." 

The  good  doctor  suggested  respectable  service  as  a  more  remu- 
nerative and  healthier  occupation. 

"  Alas !"  said  Mary,  "  to  go  into  service  is  impossible.  Who 
will  hire  a  domestic  who  is  in  delicate  health,  is  deformed,  and  to 
strangers  unintelligible  ?  You,  sir,  have  known  me  from  a  child. 
You  understand  my  broken  words.  You  never  hurry  me,  so  that 
I  can  make  you  comprehend  the  meaning  of  my  jargon.  But  who 
else  would  have  the  patience  to  listen  to  my  uncouth  sounds?" 

The  doctor  sighed,  and  said  that  she  was  right,  that  going  out 
would  only  expose  her  1o  constant  mortification  and  ridicule  ;  and 
he  felt  very  sorry  that  his  own  means  were  so  limited,  and  his 
family  so  large,  that  he  could  only  allbrd  to  keep  one  servant,  and 
that  an  active,  stirring,  healthy  woman,  able  to  execute,  without 
nmclv  bodily  fatigue,  hor  multitudinous  daily  tasks.  He  left  the 
cottage  with  regret ;  and  Mary,  for  the  first  time,  felt  the  bitter 
curse  of  hopeless  poverty,  and  a  sense  of  her  own  weakness  and 
helplessness  fell  heavily  on  her  soul. 

In  this  emergency,  Mrs.  Mason  oflered  her  a  trifling  weekly  sti- 
pend, to  attend  during  the  day  upon  the  customers,  and  to  assist 
her  in  washing  glass  and  crockery  and  keeping  the  house  in  order. 


!«>l 


FLOnA     1-YNDSAY. 


223 


Slie  "knew  liei-  to  be  honest  mid  failhlal,  and  she  was  too  homely  to 
awaken  any  interest  in  the  lieart  of  lier  worthies^  dissipateil  son. 

^lary  lieriitate<l  a  lon;^-  time  before  she  acecpfed  the  olfer  of  her 
repulsive  neijrhbor ;  but  her  ino'ihers  inereiisin.--  infirniitie.-;,  and 
the  severe  illness  of  her  youn;;ejt  sister  Cliariotle,  leCt  her  no 
choice.  Day  after  day  you  ini,!,'ht  see  the  patient  hnnehbuek  per- 
lorminir  the  menial  (lrudj,^ories  of  the  little  inn,  silent  and  self- 
possessed — an  irnaj-^e  of  iMvliont  ojiduranco,  in  a  house  of  violence 
and  crime.  It  was  to  her  care  that  the  house  owed  its  appearance 
of  neatnesjf^  and  outward  rospactrJjilily.  It  wa*  her  active,  indus- 
trious spirit  that  sirran<;iKl  and  orvkrcd  its  well-kept  household 
etulf,  that  made  the  walls  so  clicc  ry,  the  grate  fo  gay  with  flowers, 
that  kept  the  glittering  array  of  pewter  m  bright.  It  was  her 
taste  that  had  arranged  the  branches  of  the  wild  rose  to  twine  so 
^racefidly  over  tin;  rustic  porch  th.at  sliailetl  her  sick  mother's 
dwelling,  who,  forbidden  by  the  n;i(ufe  of  her  disease  to  walk 
abroad,  might  yet  see  from  her  pillow  the  fragrant  l)oughs  of  tlio 
brier  bud  and  blossom,  while  tho  i:)haled  their  fragrance  in  every 
breeze  that  stirred  the  white  cotton  curtains  that  shaded  her  nar- 
row casement. 

Mary's  native  sense  of  jiropriety  was  constantly  sliocked  by  un- 
seemly sights  and  sounds  ;.but  their  impurity  served  to  vender  vice 
Tiiorc  repulsive,  and  to  strengthen  tiiat  purity  of  heart  from  which 
felie  derivetl  all  her  eMJoyment.  Ni'j'i.t  alv.-avs  released  her  from  her 
Jaliorius  duties,  and  brought  her  back  t<)  boa  miiii&tering  angel  at 
the  sick  bed  of  her  mother  ami  sister. 

'J'hese  sisters  I  nuist  now  introrluee  to  mv  readers,  for  with  one 
•of  them  my  t<de  has  wostlv  to  do.  Unlike  Mary,  tlicv  were  both 
'l»retty,  delioate-lookiiig  girls,  ready  of  speech,, 'ind  remarkably  pleas- 
ing in  person  and  nvauners. 

Mr.  lioliir.s  had  paid  for  the  instruction  of  these  girls  at  the  vil- 
lage school,  in  which  they  hud  been  taughtall  sorts  of  plain  work  ; 
had  mustered  all  the  difliculti-^s  of  Mavor's  Sf»el ling-book,  had  read 
the  Bible,  the  Dairyman's  Daughter,  Pilgrim's  Progress, and Gold- 
Gmith's  abridgcnl  ilisrtory  of  Englt;nd,  and  all  the  books  in  theshape 
of  penny  tracts  and  sixpenny  nov<.ls  tliey  could  borrow  from  tjieir 
playmates  when  school  was  over. 

Sophy,  the  elder  of  the  two,  who  was  eighteen  years  of  age,  had 
'been  apprenticed  for  the  last  two  years  with  a  milliner  of  an  infe- 
rior grade  ki  the  little  seaport  town  :  and  her  term  of  service  bay- 


i    '1 


22-t 


Vl.OUX    r.V.VDalAT. 


ing  expired,  slie  liuil  connnoncfil  imik'mi,'  ilrtssca  in  a  luimbic  waj, 
for  Ui(3  sorviuitu  iit  nsjjurtuhlc  ^iUllilio.^.  She  had  to  work  very  Imrd 
for  a  s'.iiull  remuiierutiou,  for  the  (toirtijetitioii  was  very  {,'reat,  utiil 
•\vUlioiit  lowering  her  priees  to  nearly  one-half,  she  eould  not  have 
(jhlaini'd  eiii[)loynu!i\t  at  all.  She  eould  easily  have  proeured  a 
Kcrviee  as  a  uuiiye  girl  or  hoiiseiiKiid  in  aj,'enllenian's  family,  but  the 
ir)veis  :'l\e  had  read  duriitj-'  her  residence  with  Mi"s.  MaUewell,  tho 
lailliner,  had  lilled  her  head  witli  foolish  notions  of  her  own  beauty 
and  eousecjuenee,  and  giviMi  lur  ideas  far  above  her  humble  station, 
(juile  iiufitting  her  to  suljuvit  i)atiently  to  tho  control  of  others. 
Jksldes  bein;,'  vain  of  a  very  lovely  faeo,  she  was  very  fond  of  dress. 
A  clever  hand  at  her  business,  she  contrived  to  give  a  finish  and 
Biyle  to  the  l:omeIy  materials  she  nuule,  and  which  fitted  so  well  her 
blender  and  gracefully-fornied  jjerson. 

Her  love  ui  adniiralion  induced  her  to  lay  out  all  her  scanty  earn- 
ings in  adorning  herself,  instead  of  reser'ting  a  portion  to  help  pro- 
vide their  daily  fooil.  Her  sewing  w;ia  chiefly  done  at  home,  and 
she  attended  upon  her  mother  antl  sister,  and  prepared  their  frugal 
meals  during  the  absence  of  Mary,  whose  situation  in  the  "  Brig'a 
Foot"  she  considered  a  perfect  degradation. 

Such  was  Sophy  Urimsliawo,  aiul  there  arc  many  like  her  in  tho 
world.  Ashamed  of  poverty,  in  which  there  is  no  real  disgrace?, 
and  rej)ining  at  tho  subordinate  situation  in  which  she  found  her- 
self placed  >  she  made  no  mental  elfort  te  belter  her  condition  l)y  en- 
deavoring to  surnioutit  it  by  frugal  aiul  palrent  industiy,  and  a 
elic(n'rul  submission  to  the  Divine  will.  She  considered  her  lot  hard, 
the  dispensations  of  Trovidence  cruel  and  unjust.  She  could  not 
Koe  wliy  otliers  should  bu  Ivetter  oil"  than  hrrsclf — why  women  with 
half  her  personal  attractioriS  should  be  pcrudtted  to  ride  in  their 
carriages,  while  she  had  to  wear  coarse  shoes  and  walk  through  tlio 
dust.  She  regarded  every  well-dressed  female  thai  urissed  the 
(la;jr,  with  feelings  of  envy  aiul  hatred,  which  embittCitHl  jier  life, 
and  formed  tho  most  painful  feature  in  tho  poverty  sl-.e-  Jjathcd  and 
despised. 

Charlotte,  tho  sick  girl,  was  two  ycai-s  younger  than  Sophy,  and 
very  difi'ercnt  in  person,  mind  and  character.  A  fair,  soft,  delicate 
face,  move  winning  than  handsome,  but  full  of  geutleiwss  and  sweet- 
ness, was  a  perfect  transcript  of  the  pure  spirit  that  animated  tho 
faithful  heart  in  which  it  was  ciishrinal.  She  might  have  l>eeu 
described  in  those  charming  liuca  of  Wordsworth,  as — 


(4»v 


FLORA     LYN'DSAY. 


225 


'  **Tl»o  nwoctoHt  flower  lliat  ever  grew 

UuHido  a  cottagi)  tlodr." 

OontcntiHl  in  the  midst  of  poverty,  liappy  in  the  conscionsnoRS  of 
moral  improvement,  patient  under  suffering,  and  pious  witiiout  cant 
or  affectation  of  superior  godliness,  slie  afforded,  under  the  most 
painful  circumstances,  a  rare  example  of  (Christian  resignation  to 
the  will  of  (jiod. 

While  reading  the  Gospel  at  school,  as  a  portion  of  her  daily 
task,  it  had  please<l  the  All-Wise  Disjwnscr  of  that  ble-sed  revela- 
tion to  man,  to  oi)en  her  eyes  to  the  importance  of  those  noble 
truths  that  were  destined  to  set  her  free  from  the  bondage  of  sin 
and  death.  She  read,  and  believing  that  she  had  received  a  mes- 
gage  from  the  skies,  like  the  man  who  found  the  pearl  of  great  price, 
she  gave  her  whole  heart  and  soul  to  God,  in  order  to  secure  such 
an  inestimable  treasure.  The  sorrows  and  trials  of  lier  lowly  lot 
were  to  her  as  stc}»ping-stones  to  the  heavenly  land  on  which  all 
her  hopes  were  placed,  and  she  rcgardetl  the  fatal  disease  which 
wasted  her  feeble  frame,  and  which  had  now  confined  lier  to  the 
Bame  bed  with  her  mother,  as  the  means  employed  by  God  to 
release  her  from  the  sufferings  of  earth,  and  open  for  her  the  gates 
of  heaven.  How  earnestly,  yet  how  tenderly,  she  tried  to  inspire 
her  atflited  mother  with  the  same  hopes  that  animated  her  breast ! 
She  read  to  her,  she  prayed  with  her,  and  endeavored  to  explain 
in  the  best  way  she  could  that  mysterious  change  which  had  been 
wrought  in  her  own  soul,  and  which  now,  on  the  near  approach  of 
death,  filled  her  mind  with  inexpressible  joy. 

This  reading  of  the  Scriptures  was  a  great  consolation  to  the 
poor  widow  ;  and  one  day  she  remarked,  in  a  tone  of  deep  regr  jt 
and  with  many  tears — 

'•  Who  will  read  the  Bible  to  me,  Charlotte,  when  you  are  gone? 
Mary  cannot  read,  and  if  she  could,  who  could  understand  what 
she  read,  and  Sophy  hates  everything  that  is  serious,  and  is  too  selfish 
to  trouble  herself  to  read  aloud  to  me." 

"  Mother,  I  have  thought  much  about  that  of  late,"  said  the  sick 
girl,  raising  herself  on  the  pillow  into  a  sitting  posture,  and  speak- 
ing with  great  earnestness.  '*  The  doctor  said  yesterday  that  I 
might  survive  for  six  or  seven  weeks  longer — perhaps,'  he  added, 
'  until  the  latter  end  of  Autumn.'  During  that  time,  could  I  not 
teach  you  to  read  ? " 

10* 


i'l 

It 

i 

1 

>' 


226 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"  At  fifty  years  of  age,  Charlotte ! "  and  the  poor  widow  smiled 
at  the  enthusiasm  of  her  child. 

"And  why  not,  mother?"  said  Charlotte,  camly.  "It  would 
be  a  great  comfort  to  you,  during  the  long,  lonely  hours  you  pass 
in  bed ;  the  thing  may  appear  difficult,  but  I  assure  you  that  it  is 
not  impossible." 

"  And  then  your  weak  state ;  think  how  it  would  fatigue  you, 
my  dear  child." 

"  So  far  from  that,  mother,  it  would  afford  me  the  greatest  de- 
light;" and  the  sick  girl  clasped  her  thin,  wasted  hands  together, 
and  looked  upward  with  an  ei:pression  of  gratitude  and  love  beam- 
ing on  her  pale,  placid  face.  •  •  -„-^  ■-■■■)  ';■ 

"Well,  1  will  try  to  please  you,  my  dear  Charlotte,"  said  Doro- 
thy, whose  breast  was  thrilled  to  its  inmost  core  by  the  affectionate 
solicitude  which  that  glance  of  angelic  benevolence  conveyed  to  her 
heart ;  "  but  you  will  find  me  so  stupid  that  you  will  soon  give  it 
up  as  a  bad  job." 

"  With  God  all  things  are  possible,"  said  Charlotte,  reveren- 
tially.   "  AVith  His  blessing,  mother,  we  will  begin  to-morrow." 

It  was  a  strange  but  beautifuf  sight*  to  see  that  dying  girl  lying 
in  the  same  bed  instructing  her  helpless  mother — a  sight  which 
drew  tears  from  sterner  eyes  than  iiine.  And  virtue  triumphed 
over  obstacles  which  at  first  appeared  insurmountable.  Before 
death  summoned  the  good  daughter  to  a  better  world,  she  had  t^  > 
inexpressible  joy  of  hearing  her  mcAher  read  distinctly  to  her 
Christ's  Sermon  on  the  Mount.  As  the  old  woman  concluded  her 
delightful  task,  the  grateful  Charlotte  exclaimed  gently,  in  a  sort 
of  ecstasy — ''Now,  Lord,  let  thy  servant  depart  in  paece."  Her 
prayer  was  granted  ;  and  a  few  minutes  after,  this  good  and  faith- 
ful disciple  entered  into  the  joy  of  her  Lord. 

This  event,  though  long  expected  by  Dorothy  Grimshawe,  was 
ielt  with  keen  anguish.  The  tuneful  voice  was  silent  that  day  and 
night  which  for  m;  •  i  weeks  had  spoken  peace  to  her  soul.  The  Avarm 
young  heart  was  sial,  that  had  t-o  ardently  hoped  and  prayed  for 
her  salvation,  that  had  solved  lier  doubts  and  strengthened  her  waver- 
ing faith  ;  and  to  whoin^iow  could*  slie  turn  for  comlbrt  and  conso- 
lation? To  Mary,  wliispered  the  voice  in  lier  soul ;  but  Mary  was 
absent  during  the  greater  part  of  the  day,  and  Sophy  was  too  busy 


*  T!)is  touching  soexio  was  witno»iud  by  the  Authcn 


FLORA    LY'NDSAY. 


22t 


witli  Ler  :^'n  affairs  to  jmy  much  attention  to  her  hcart-brokca 
parent. 

But  deep  as  was  the  mother's  grief  for  the  loss  of  her  dutiful 
child,  the  sorrow  of  the  poor  hunchback  for  this  her  beloved  sister, 
who  had  been  tlie  idolized  pet  of  hw  joyless  childhood,  was  greater 
still.  AVoi'n  down  with  an  incurable  discaGo,  Mrs.  Grimshawe 
looked  forward  to  a  speetly  reunion  with  tlie  departed  ;  but  years 
of  toil  and  suffering  might  yet  be  reserved  for  the  patient  creature, 
who  never  was  heard  to  murmur  over  her  painful  lot. 

The  death  of  the  young  Charlotte,  the  peacemaker,  the  com- 
forter and  monitor  to  the  vest  of  the  household,  was  as  if  her  good 
angel  had  departed,  and  tlic  sunshine  of  heaven  had  been  dimmed 
by  iier  absence. 

"  Oh,  my  sister  !"  she  murmure<],  in  the  depths  of  her  soul,  "  thou 
"wert  justly  dear  to  all ;  but  oh !  how  dear  to  me !  No  one  on 
earth  loved  the  poor  hunckback,  or  could  reud  the  language  of  her 
heart,  like  you.  To  others  dumb  and  unc;outh,  to  you  my  voice 
was  natural ;  for  it  spoke  to  you  of  feelings  and  hopes  which  you 
alone  could  understand." 

Mrs.  Mason  scolded  and  grumblal  that,  for  weeks  after  Char- 
lotte's death,  Mary  Grimshawe  performed  her  daily  tasks  with  less 
alacrity,  and  wandered  to  and  fro  like  one  in  a  dream.  Sometimes 
the  pent-up  anguish  of  her  heart  found  a  vent  in  sad  and  unintel- 
ligible sounds — "  A  gibbcrisli,"  her  mistress  said, "  that  was  enough 
to  frighten  all  the  customers  from  the  house." 

Mary  had  other  causes  of  annoyance  to  grieve  and  perplex  her, 
independent  of  the  death  of  her  si>ter.  For  some  weeks  past,  the 
coarse,  dissolute  llobort  Mason  had  shown  a  decided  preference  for 
her  sister  Sophy,  whom  he  proclaimed,  in  her  hearing,  to  his  bad 
associates,  "  to  be  the  prettiest  gal  in  the  neighborhood — the  only 
gal  that  he  cared  a  bit  for,  or  deemed  worth  a  fellow's  thoughts. 
But  then,"  he  added,  carelessly,  and  with  an  air  of  superiority 
which  galle^  Mary  not  a  little,  "  the  wench  was  poor- -too  poor 
for  him.  He  wanted  some  'un  with  lots  of  tin,  that  would  eniblo 
him  to  open  a  good  public-house  in  town." 

Mary,  as  she  listened,  secretly  blessed  God  that  they  were  poor, 
while  the  runian  continued  : 

"  His  mother,  the  old  jade,  would  never  consent  to  his  marrying 
one  so  much  beneath  him.  If  she  only  suspected  him  of  casting  a 
sheep's  eye  at  Sophy  Grimshawo,  she  would  set  marks  on  the  gal's 


■> 

i 

■  '*i 

: 

1 

i 

I 

} 

' 

228 


FI.OUA     I.YXDi'AT. 


face  tliat  would  ?poiI  her  beauty.  But  if  tlie  gal  had  not  been  so 
decidedly  poor,  he  wouhl  please  himself,  "Rithout  asking  Mammy'a 
leave,  he  could  tell  her." 

His  coarse  conu'ades  received  his  disrespectful  insubordination  to 
his  motlicr's  authority  as  an  excellent  joke,  while  Mary  inly  shud- 
dered at  his  indelicate  avowal  of  his  liking  for  her  sister,  which 
filled  her  mind  with  a  thousand  indelinite  fears. 

Sophy,  of  late,  had  been  able  to  obtain  but  little  work  in  the 
neighborhood  ;  she  was  silent  and  dejected,  and  murmured  con- 
t^tantly  against  her  poverty,  and  the  want  of  e^-ery  comfort  that 
could  render  life  tolerable.  Sometimes  she  talked  of  going  into 
service,  but  against  this  project,  so  new  from  her  mouth,  her  mother 
objected,  as  she  had  no  one  else  during  the  day  to  wait  upon  her, 
or  speak  to  her.  More  generally,  however,  slie  speculated  upon 
some  wealthy  tradesman  making  her  his  wife,  and  placing  her  at 
once  above  want  and  work.  "v  • 

"  I  care  not,"  she  would  say,  "  how  old  or  ugly  he  might  be,  if  he 
would  only  take  me  out  of  this,  and  make  a  lady  of  me." 

Mary  shook  her  head,  anl  tried,  in  hoarse  ejaeulationg,  to  express 
her  disapprobation  of  such  an  innnoral  avowal  of  sentiments  she 
could  but  regard  with  horror  ;  while  she  fixed  upon  her  sister  those 
piercing  eyes,  which  seemed  to  look  into  her  very  soul — those  eyea 
which,  gleaming  through  fast-falling  tears,  made  the  vain  girl  shiver 
and  turn  av.ay. 

"  Sophy,"  said  ]\Irs.  Grimshawe,  gravely — for  the  remark  was 
made  one  evening,  by  her  motlnjr's  bed-side — "  JMary  cannot  speak 
her  thoughts,  but  I  understand  her  perfectly,  and  can  sper.k  them 
for  her,  and  v/ould  seriously  ask  you,  if  you  think  it  a  crime  to  sell 
your  soul  for  money." 

*'  Certainly  not ;  I  would  do  anything  to  get  rid  of  the  weary 
life  I  lead.  All  day  chained  down  to  my  needle,  and  all  night  kept 
avv-ake  by  the  moans  of  the  sick.  At  eighteen  years  of  age,  is  it 
not  enouu-h  to  drive  me  mad  ?" 

"  It  is  what  the  Lord  has  been  pleased  to  appoint — a  heavy  bur- 
don,  doubtless,  but  meant  for  your  good.  Look  at  Mary ;  her  lot 
is  harder  than  yours,  vet  she  never  repiucs." 

Sophy  flashed  a  scornful  look  at  her  sister,  as  she  replied — 

"Mary  is  not  exposed  to  the  same  temptations.  Nature  has 
placetl  her  beyond  them.  1  am  hamlsonie,  and  several  years 
youngor  thau  liur.    She  is  deformixl,  and  has  a  fri^jhtful  impedi- 


lif 


FLORA    LYXDSAY. 


229 


ment  in  her  speech,  and  is  so  pUiin  that  no  one  could  fall  in  lovo 
with  her,  or  wish  to  make  her  a  wife.  Men  think  her  hideous,  but 
tliey  do  not  laugh  at  her  for  being  poor  and  shabby  as  they  do  at 
me." 

This  speech  was  made  under  the  influence  of  vehement  passion, 
and  was  concluded  with  a  violent  burst  of  tears. 

Jler  cruel  words  inflicted  a  deep  wound  in  the  heart  of  the  poor 
deformed  girl.  For  the  first  time  she  felt  degraded  in  her  own 
eyes ;  and  the  afflictions  under  which  she  labored  seemed  disgrace- 
ful ;  and  she  wished  she  had  been  deaf  as  well  as  unintelligible. 
But  these  feelings,  so  foreign  to  her  nature,  were  of  short  duration  ; 
after  a  brief  but  severe  mental  struggle,  she  surmounted  her  just 
resentment,  and  forgave  her  thoughtless  sister  for  the  unmerited 
reproach.  Wiping  the  tears  from  her  pale,  dark  cheeks,  she 
smoothed  the  pillows  for  her  sick  mother,  and  murmured  with  a 
sigh — "  Lord,  it  was  Thy  hand  that  made  me  as  I  am ;  let  me 
not  rebel  against  Thy  will." 

The  old  woman  was  greatly  excited  by  Sophy's  unworthy  con- 

ct.     With  a  great  effort  she  raised  herself  nearly  upright  in  her 

d,  gazing  sternly  upon  her  rebellious  child. 

"  Mary,  my  darling !"  she  cried,  at  last,  when  she  saw  the  deform- 
ed vainly  striving  to  control  the  emotion  which  convulsed  her  whole 
frame — "  bear  with  patience  the  sinful  reproaches  of  this  weak,  vain 
girl.  The  time  will  come  when  she  will  be  severely  punished  fur 
her  cruelty  and  injustice.  It  would  be  well  for  her  if  the  image  of 
her  God  were  impressed  upon  her  soul  us  it  is  upon  yours,  my  goodj 
dutiful  child.  The  clay  perishes,  but  that  which  gives  value  to  the 
clay  .-hi.'!  flourish  in  immortal  youth  and  beauty,  when  the  heavens 
shall  be  no  more.  '  'J'hen  shall  the  righteous  shine  forth  like  the 
sun ' — Ah,  me !  I  have  forgotten  the  rest  of  the  text,  but  you,  Mary, 
know  it  well ;  let  it  console  you,  my  dear  girl,  and  dry  these  useless 
tears.  I  was  pretty,  like  Sophy,  once,  and,  like  her,  I  thought  too 
highly  of  myself.  Look  at  me  now.  Look  at  these  wrinkled,  care- 
worn cheeks — these  wasted,  useless  limbs  ;  are  they  not  a  lesson  to 
human  pride  and  vanity?  I  never  knew  my  real  character  until  I 
knew  grief.  Sorrow  has  been  blessed  to  my  soul,  f(jr  had  I  never 
tiusted  the  cup  of  affliction,  I  had  never  known  the  necessity  of  a 
Saviour.  May  his  peace  and  blessing  Ibrtify  your  heart  to  endure 
tvery  trial  which  his  wisdom  may  appoint,  my  poor  afllicted  lamb  !" 

Sophy's  bsart  was  softened  by  her  mother's  pass.'onate  appeal 


'       li': 

ilia 


It  .- 


IF 


i^ 


230 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


Heartily  ashamed  of  herself,  she  approached  nearer  to  her  weeping 
sist^-r. 

"  Mary,"  she  faultered,  in  a  tone  of  deep  self-reproach,  "  I  did 
not  mean  to  vex  you.  I  Ivnow  that  you  are  better  than  me,  and 
yoa  must  not  take  so  to  heart  my  wild  words  ;  I  am  miserable  and 
unliappy  ;  I  do  not  always  know  what  I  say." 

The  eyes  of  the. sisters  met ;  Sophy  flung  her  arms  about  Mary's 
neck  and  kissed  her. 

"  You  forgive  me,  Mary  ?" 

The  hunchback  smiled  through  her  tears — and  such  a  smile — so 
eloquent — so  full  of  love  and  grateful  affection,  that  Sophy  felt  she 
was  more  than  forgiven. 

*•  Why  are  you  unhappy,  Sophy?"  asked  Mrs.  Grimshawe,  seiz- 
ing the  favorable  moment  to  make  a  more  lasting  impression  on 
her  mind.  '  .  . 

"  Because  we  are  so  poor." 

■'We  have  endured  many  evils  worse  than  poverty." 

"  None,  none.  That  one  word  comprises  them  all.  To  be  hun- 
gry, shabby,,  despised  ;  and  you  wonder  that  my  soul  rebels  against 
it?" 

"  Are  not  unkind  words  and  reproaches  more  hard  to  bear  ?" 

Sophy  hung  aer  head,  and  wa?  silent. 

"  Mary  would  eat  dry  bread  for  a  week,  and  be  cheer  fid  and 
resigned,  and  wear  a  coarse,  shabby  garment,  without  shedding  a 
single  tear.  These  are  hardships,  my  girl ;  but  they  do  not  affect 
the  heart,  or  cause  one  pang  of  remorse.  But,  seriously,  Sophy, 
do  you  think  that  yOu  would  improve  your  present  condition,  or 
render  yourself  happier,  by  marrying  a  man  you  did  not  love,  for 
money?" 

"  Yes."    This  was  said  emphatically. 

"  Oh,  do  it  not,  my  child !  It  is  a  great  sin  to  enter  into  a 
solemn  covenant,  and  swear  at  God's  holy  altar  to  love  and  honor 
and  obey  a  man  for  whom  you  have  neither  affection  nor  respect. 
No  blessing  from  God  can  follow  such  an  union.  Nature  would 
assert  her  rights,  and  punish  you  severely  for  having  broken  her 
laws." 

"  Nonsense,  mother !  The  thing  is  done  every  day,  and  I  see 
none  of  these  evil  results.  Johanna  Carter  married  old  George 
Hughes  for  his  money,  and  they  live  very  comfortably  together. 
I  wUl  accept,  like  her,  ^e  first  good  offer  that  comes  in  ray  way," 


FLORA    LYXnSAT. 


231 


Mary  writhed,  and  tried  for  some  time  to  make  her  thoughts 
audible :  at  lost  she  succeeded  in  gasping  out — 

"  Robert  Mason  ! — not  him — not  him !" 

"  Robert  ]\lason !  What,  Bully  Bob  ?  Docs  he  admire  me  ? 
Well,  Mary,  I  will  quiet  your  apprehensions  by  assuring  you  that 
the  regard  is  not  mutual.  And  what  would  the  old  witch  his 
mother  say?" 

"  Ijit  her  never  have  it  to  say,  that  her  bad  son  married  Daniel 
Grimshawe's  daughter,"  said  Dorothy,  indignantly. 

"  Oh,  but  I  should  like  to  plague  that  old  fiend,  by  letting  her 
imagine  that  I  encouraged  her  son.  She  has  always  something 
spiteful  to  say  to  me.  It  would  be  rare  fun  to  torment  her  a  little. 
I  will  be  very  sweet  to  Master  Bc'->  for  the  time  to  come." 

Mary  caught  her  arm,  and  looked  imploringly  in  her  face.     • 

"  So  you  are  afraid  of  my  marrying  Bob  Makon  ?  What  foolish 
women  you  are !  He  is  not  rich  enough  for  me — a  drunken 
speiulthrift !  Wlien  1  sell  my  soul  for  money,  as.  mother  calls  my 
getting  a  rich  husband,  it  shall  be  to  one  who  is  better  able  to 
pay  for  it."  ,   , 

And  in  high  spirits  the  hitherto  discontented  grumbler  undressed 
and  retired  to  bed,  leaving  Mary  to  pray  for  her  during  the  greater 
part  of  the  night,  to  entreat  God  to  forgive  her  volatile  sister,  and 
make  her  sensible  of  her  sin. 


it 


CHAPTI]R    XXXVI. 


THE     GHOST. 


A  SHORT  time  after  this  conversation  took  place  by  the  sick-bed 
of  Dorothy  Grimshawe,  a  report  got  abroad  that  the  road  between 

the  town  of and  C churchyard  was  haunted  by  the 

ghost  of  old  Mason,  the  apparition  of  that  worthy  having  been 
seen  and  spoken  to  by  several  of  his  old  friends  and  associates, 
who  had  frequented  the  "  Brig's  Foot"  during  his  occupation  of 
it,  and 'to  whom  his  person  was  well  known.  The  progress  of  the 
stage  coach  had  been  several  times  stopped  by  the  said  ghost,  the 
horses  frightenetl,  the  vehicle  overturned,  and  several  of  the  pas- 
sengers seriously  injural.  Those  who  retained  tlieir  senses  boldly 
affirmed  that  they  had  seen  the  spectre — tliat  it  was  old  Mason, 


2a2 


FLORA    LYKDSAY. 


and  no  mistake — a  man  so  remarkable  for  his  ill-looks  in  life,  that 
even  in  death  they  could  not  be  forgotten.  These  tales,  wliether 
true  or  false,  were  fi^cnerally  believed  among  the  lower  classes,  and 
wore  the  means  of  bri.iging  a  great  influx  of  guests  to  the  "  Brig's 
Foot."  All  the  idlers  in  the  town  flocked  hither  after  the  night 
had  closed  in,  to  ask  questions,  and  repeat  what  they  had  heard 
during  the  day  about  the  ghost. 

Martha  Mason  lookexl  sourly  on  her  new  customers,  and 
answered  all  their  questions  regarding  her  departed  husband  with 
an  abrupt,  "  What  concern  is  it  of  yours  what  the  man  was  like  ? 
He  is  deaJ.  I  know  nothing  about  him  now  ;  nor  do  I  want  to 
know.     I  don't  believe  one  word  of  your  foolish  lies." 

One  circumstance  struck  Mary  as  very  singular  :  young  Mason 
was  always  absent  of  an  evening,  and  seldom  returned  before  day- 
break, particularly  on  those  iiu>hts  when  the  coach  from  N 

was  expected  to  pass  ti'at  r  iiich  was  only  twice  daring  the 

week.     This  was  the  more  >m,  )le,  as  he  had  always  been  the 

foremost  in  the  scenes  of  riot  and  misrule  that  were  constantly 
enacted  beneath  that  roof  ^^  i;.  •<  he  t^i-^  'Make  his  appearance,  he 
was  unusually  sober,  and  repeated  all  tie  |;  'ank.i  performed  by  the 
gliost  as  an  excellent  joke,  mimicking  his  looks  and  actions  amid 
loud-bursts  of  indecent  laughter,  t«  the  no  small  horror  of  his  su- 
l)crstitious  guests.  *  - 

"  What  do  the  ghost  look  lilco.  Bob  ?"  asked  Joshua  Spilman, 
an  honest  laborer,  who  had  stepped  in  to  drink  his  pint  of  ale  and 
hear  the  news  ;  and  having  tarried  later  than  his  wont,  was  afraid 
to  return  home.     "  I  never  seed  a  ghost  in  all  my  born  days." 

"Why,  man,  ghosts,  like  owls,  only  come  abroad  of  a  night, 
and  you  have  little  chance  of  having  your  curiosity  gratified  dur- 
ing the  day.  But  if  you  are  very  anxious  to  see  one,  and  are  not 
afraid  of  leaving  the  chimney  corner,  and  stepping  out  into  tho 
dark,  just  go  with  me  to  the  mouth  of  the  Gipsy  lane,  and  look 
for  yourself.  It  was  there  the  old  'un  appeared  last  night,  and 
there  most  likelv  he'll  be  to-night  again." 

"  The  Lord  ha'  mercy  upon  us.  Do  you  think.  Bob,  I'd  put 
mj'self  in  the  way  of  the  ghost?  I  would  not  go  there  by  mysel' 
for  all  the  world." 

"  It  would  not  hurt  you." 

"  Not  hurt  I  ?  Sure  it  broke  the  leg  of  Dick  Simmons,  when 
it  skeared  the  hosses,  and  overturned  the  coach  last  Monday  uight. 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


233 


"    yi!l 


I'd  rathex  keep  rayself  in  a  whole  skin.  But  when  yoa  seed  it. 
Bob,  ^'orn't  you  mortal  feared  ?" 

"Notl." 

"  An'  did  you  speak  to  'un  ?" 

"Ah,  to  be  sure.  Do  you  think  I'd  run  away  from  my  own 
dad  ?  '  Old  boy,'  says  I,  '  is  that  you  ?  How  are  you  getting  on 
below  ?'  IIcKshakes  his  head,  and  glowers  at  me,  'an  his  one  eye 
looked  like  a  burning  coal. 

*' '  You'll  know  one  day,'  says  he.  • 

"  '  That's  pleasant  news,'  says  I.  '  You'll  be  sure  to  give  me  a 
warm  welcome  at  any  rate.  There's  nothing  like  having  a  friend 
at  head-quarters.'  When  he  saw  that  I  was  not  afraid  of  him,  he 
gave  a  loud  screech  and  vanished,  leaving  behind  him  a  most,  infer- 
nal stench  of  brimstone,  which  I  smelt  all  thq,  way  from  the  cross- 
road as  far  as  the  bridge.  He  had  got  his  answer,  and  I  saw  no 
more  of  him  for  that  night. 

Josh  thrust  his  cluiir  back  to  the  wall,  and  drawing  a  long  breath, 
gazed  upon  the  roproljate  with  a  strange  mixture  of  awe  and  terror 
in  his  bewildered  countenance. 

"  Why,  man,  an'  my  feather  had  said  sic  like  words  to  me,  I 
should  have  gone  stark,  staring  mad  with  fear  and  sheame." 

"  The  shame  should  be  all  on  his  side  then,"  quoth  the  incorrigi- 
ble Bob.  "  J  did  not  make  him  the  bad  niiui  he  was,  though  h« 
made  ine.  lie  was  always  an  ugly  fellow,  and  the  scorching  he  has 
got  down  there  (and  he  pointed  significantly  to  the  ground)  has  not 
improved  his  looks.     But  mother  would  know  him  in  a  minute." 

"  I  never  want  to  see  your  father  again,  Eobert,"'  srid  Martha, 
doggedly  ;  '•  so  you  need  not  address  any  such  inij)ertinent  remarks 
to  me.  I  had  enough  of  his  company  licre.  I  don't  know  why  he 
should  leave  his  grave  to  haunt  me  after  his  death." 

'•  For  the  love  he  bore  you  while  on  earth,"  said  the  dutiful  son, 
glancing  round  the  group  with  a  knowing  look.  "  Had  is  sure  of  a 
kind  reception  from  you,  mother." 

"  The  day  he  was  buried,"  said  Martha,  "  was  the  only  happy 
one  I  had  known  for  twenty  years,  and  you  know  it  well.  One  of 
his  last  acts  was  to  make  me  a  cripple  for  life." 

"  llow  did  he  come  by  his  death.  Mother  Mason?"  a.sked  a 
young  sailor,  '1'  )n\  Weston  by  name. 

"  He  was  kilLxl  in  a  row  with  the  smugglers,"  said  Bob.  "  Ho 
had  helped  them  to  land  some  brandy,  and  they  wanted  to  cheat  him 


' 


234 


FLORA    LYKDSAY. 


out  of  liis  pay.  Fatlier  had  lots  of  pluck,  lie  had  lost  an  eye  once 
hflorc  ill  Kuch  a  frolic,  lie  attacked  the  whole  baud  single  handed 
and  gut  knocked  on  the  hciul  in  the  scuflJe.  The  smugglers  ran 
away,  and  left  mother  to  bury  the  dead." 

*'  lie  only  got  what  he  deserved,"  nmtterod  Martha.  "  It  is  a 
pity  he  did  not  get  it  twenty  years  before.  liut  he  is  gone  to  his 
place,  and  I  am  determinal  to  keep  mine.  K  ghost  has  no  legal 
claim  to  the  property  of  the  living,  and  he  shall  never  get  posses- 
sion of  this  house,  living  or  dead,  again." 

"  But  suppose,  Martha,  he  should  take  it  into  his  head  to  haunt 
it,  and  make  it  too  hot  to  hold  you,"  said  Tom  Westou,  "what 
would  you  do  theu'?" 

"I  think  I  know  a  secret  or  two  that  would  lay  the  ghost,"  re- 
turned ilartha  ;  and  hobbling  across  the  kitchen  on  her  crutch,  she 
lifted  down  an  old  horse-pistol  that  was  suspended  to  one  of  the  low 
cross-lx-ams,  and  wiping  the  dust  from  it  with  her  apron,  she  care- 
fully examined  the  lock.  .  ,< 

"  This  should  speak  my  welcome  to  all  such  unwelcome  intruders^ 
It  hius  released  more  than  one  troublesome  spirit  from  its  clay  tene- 
ment, and  I  have  no  doubt  that  it  w^ouldbe  found  equally  efficacious 
hi  quieting  others — that  is  if  they  have  the  audacity  to  try  their 
strength  againgst  me ;"  and  she  glanced  disdai  "pUy  at  her  son  from 
4)eiieath  her  bushy,  lowering  brows.  "  This  brown  dog  is  old,  but 
he  can  still  6ar/c  and  t/fe .'" 

"  Iluw  vicious  mother  looks !"  said  BoIj,  with  a  loud  laugh. 
"  It  would  require  a  ghost  with  some  pluck  to  face  her." 

"  What  time  did  the  spectre  ai)peai^last  night  ?"  said  Tom  AVes- 
ton,  who  saw  that  mij^chief  was  brewing,  and  w;xs  anxious  to  turu 
the  subject  into  another  channel.  "  I  should  like  amazingly  to 
see  it."  '    _  .  - 

.  "  That's  all  bosh  !"'  snid  Bob.  "  You  would  soon  cut  and  run. 
But  if  you  are  in  earnest,  come  with  mo  to  the  cross-road,  and  I 
promise  to  introduce  you  to  the  old  gentleman.  The  clock  has  just 
struck  eleven ;  he  will  be  taking  his  rounds  by  the  time  w'e  get 
there." 

The  young  man  drew  back.  "  Xot  in  your  company.  Mason. 
It  would  be  enough  to  raise  the  devil." 

"  AVell,  please  yourself.  "  I  knew  yon  would  funk  out.  I  shaH 
go,  however.  I  want  to  have  a  few  minutes'  conversation  with  the 
ghost  before  he  appears  in  public.    Perhaps  be  will  show  me  whcro 


Kl 


mi 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


235 


to  find  a  hidden  treasure.  Goodbye,  mother;  shall  I  give  your 
compliments  to  the  old  gentleman  ?  Love,  I  know,  is  out  of  the 
question.     You  had  none  to  spare  for  him  when  he  was  alive." 

"  Away  with  you  for  a  blasphemous  rcbrobate  that  you  are!" 
cried  the  angry  old  woman,  shaking  her  crutch  at  him. 

"  Mammy's  own  darlii.g  son  !"  cried  the  disgusting  wretch,  as, 
with  a  loud  oath,  he  sprang  through  the  open  door  and  vanished 
into  the  dark  niglit. 

The  men  looked  significantly  at  each  other,  and  a  little  tailor 
rose  cautiously  and  shut  the  door. 

"  Why  do  you  do  that  ?"  said  Tom  Weston.    ,.  .,   .   , 

"  To  keep  out  bad  company." 

"It  is  stifling  hot  I"  cried  Tom,  kicking  it  open  with  his  foot. 
"  I  shall  die  without  a  whiff  of  fresh  air." 

"  But  the  ghost?"  and  the  little  tailor  shook  his  head  myste- 
riously. 

"  Does  not  beloiig  to  any  of  us,"  rejoined  Tom.  "  My  relations 
are  all  sound  sleepers ;  good,  honest  people,  who  are  sure  to  rest 
in  their  graves.  There  is  a  storm  brewing,"  he  continued,  walk- 
ing to  the  open  door  ;  "  tluvt  thunder-cloud  will  burst  over  our 
heads  in  a  few  minutes,  and  Miuiter  Bob  will  get  a  good  drcnch- 


mg. 


"  Its  awsome  to  hear  him  talk  as  he  do  of  his  feather's  spirit," 
said  honest  Josh.     "  It  makes  my  flesh  creep  upon  my  bones." 

"  Provided  there's  any  truth  in  his  statement^,"  said  a  carpenter, 
who  had  been  smoking  his  pipe  by  the  table,  and  silently  listening 
to  the  conversation — "  whic\^I  much  doubt.  For  my  own  part  I 
would  be  more  afraid  of  meeting  llolicrt  Miuson  alone  in  that  dark 
lane,  than  any  visitant  from  another  world.  I  don't  believe  in 
ghosts.  I  never  saw  one,  and  I  never  met  with  any  person,  on 
M'hose  word  j'ou  could  attach  much  credit,  that  could  satisfactorily 
prove  to  you  that  he  had  :  when  you  pushed  him  hard,  it  always 
came  out  that  he  was  not  tlie  ])erson  who  had  seen  it ;  but  some 
one  else  who  had  related  the  tale  to  him,  and  he  had  every  reason 
to  believe  it  true.  The  farther  you  searched  into  the  matter,  the 
more  indistinct  and  improbable  the  story  bo(;.ame.'' 

"  Ay,  Bill  Oorbctt ;  but  you  heard  Bob  declare  that  he  has  both 
Been  and  spoken  to  it,  and  the  lad  must  know  his  own  father." 

"  I  don't  take  for  gospel  what  I  hear  Bob  say  ;  I  don't  believo 
one  word  of  the  story — uo,  not  if  ho  was  to  swear  to  the  truth  of 


''1 

I  SI 


i  ';iw 


,■* 


23G 


FLORA     LYNDSAY. 


it  Upon  the  llibic,"  saiil  tlic  curpentcr,  waxing  warm.  Before  Tom 
AVes'toii  conKl  vv\)\y,  u  loud  pciil  of  tliundor  burst  suddenly  over 
tluiir  lu'iuls,  mid  the  room  was  so  vividly  lighted  up  by  the  electric 
lla-sh  that  iireeedixl  it,  that  Mary,  who  was  int^Mitly  listening  to  the 
conversation,  rose  from  her  seat  with  a  loud  scream. 
>  "  By  the  living  Jingo  !  what's  that?"  cried  the  laborer,  starting 
to  his  feet,  while  the  pipe  he  was  smoking  fell  from  his  nerveless 
grasp  and  shivenxl  to  atoms  on  the  hearth. 

"  Fshaw  I"  said  Tom  Weston,  recovering  from  the  sudden  tremor 
which  liad  seized  him,  "  'tis  only  the  poor  dummy.  I  thought  tha 
gal  had  been  deaf  as  well  as  dumb." 

"  Why,  man,  the  dead  in  their  graves  might  ha  'c  heard  that !" 
said  the  terror  stricken  Josh. 

He  had  scarcely  ceased  speaking,  when  Sophy  Gi  imshawe  sprang 
into  the  room — her  eyes  fixed  and  staring,  and  her  usually  rosy 
cheeks  livid  with  I'ear.  "  The  thunder,"  she  gasped,  "  the  dreadful 
thunder  !"  and  would  have  fallen  to  the  ground,  had  not  Tom 
Weston  caught  her  in  his  arms.  'J'he  unexpected  sight  of  such  a 
beautiful  apparition,  seemed  to  restore  the  young  man's  presence 
of  mind,  lie  placed  her  in  a  chair,  while  the  little  tailor  bustled 
up  to  get  a  glairs  of  cold  water,  with  which  he  copiously  bathed 
lier  face  and  hands.  In  a  few  minutes  her  limbs  ceased  to  tremlile, 
and  opening  her  eyoi!,  slie  glanced  timidly  round  her.  The  first 
oltject  that  encountered  her  g!i;^e,  was  the  scornful,  ticndlike  face  of 
Mrs.  Mason,  scowling  upon  her.  • 

"  80,"  she  said,  sneeringly,  "  you  make  the  thunder  a  pretext  for 
showing  your  painted  doH's  face  to  tlie  fellows  here.  Your  mother 
would  do  well  to  keep  you  at  home." 

"  Mother  w;is  tvsleep,  and  she  is  not  afraid  of  thunder  like  nio. 
When  that  dreadful  (lash  of  lightning  came,  I  dared  not  stay  alone 
in  the  house."  •<    v  '  .  ■    • 

"  Are  you  a  bit  safer,  think  you,  here?"  sneered  the  witch-like 
woman.  "  It  was  monstrous  kind  of  you  to  leave  your  poor  old 
mother  exposed  to  danger,  while  you  run  away  from  it  like  a  cow- 
ard !  A  bad  exciise,  however,  I've  heard,  is  better  than  none.  In 
your  ciise  I  think  it  worse." 

"  I  did  not  think  of  that,"  said  Sophy,  with  unaffected  simplicity, 
rising  to  go.  "  Mother  never  cares  for  it,  but  it  makes  me  tremble 
from  head  to  foot,  and  almost  drives  me  beside  mvself.  I  can't  tell 
why,  but  it  has  always  been  so  with  me  since  I  was  a  little  child. 


*    i 


ml 


FLORA    LVNDSAY. 


237 


As  she  finishcil  speaking,  another  long  protractor!  peul  of  Ihun- 
diT  rolled  through  the  houvens  and  shook  the  house,  and  S(»i)hy 
sank  down  gasping  in  lier  chair.  The  handsome  young  sailor  waa 
at  her  sii-c  with  a  glass  of  ale. 

"  Never  mind  that  cross  old  woman,  my  dear ;  she  scolds  and 
rules  us  all.  Take  a  sup  of  this — it  will  bring  the  roses  back  to 
your  cheeks.  ^Vhy,  you  are  as  pale  aa  the  ghost  we  wei*e  talking 
of  when  you  came  in." 

"  Oh,  I'm  such  a  coward  I"  sobbed  Sophy.  "  Ah,  there  it  comes 
again — the  lightning  Avill  blind  me  !" — and  she  shrieked  and  threw 
her  apron  over  her  head,  as  another  terrific  peal  buret  solemnly 
above  them.  "  I  would  rather  see  twenty  ghosts  than  hear  the 
like  of  that  again.     Did  not  you  feel  the  earth  shake  ?" 

"  Now  for  the  rain  !"  cried  the  little  tailor,  as  a  few  heavy  drops 
first  splashed  upon  the  door-sill ;  then  there  was  the  rush  and  roar 
of  a  hurrlcance,  and  the  water  burst  from  the  skies  in  torrents, 
streaming  over  the  door-sill,  and  beating  through  the  chinks  in  the 
ill-glazed  windows. 

"  Shut  the  door,  man  !  can't  you?"'  vociferate*!  Tom  Weston  to 
the  tailor.  "  The  rain  jjours  in  like  a  (loot!,  and  it  will  give  the 
young  lady  cold." 

"  Poor,  delicate  creature!"  said  Martha;  "as  if  a  few  drops 
of  rain  could  hurt  the  like  o'  her  I"  ,: 

As  the  tailor  rose  to  shut  the  door,  two  men,  bearing  a  heavy 
burthen  between  them,  filled  up  the  vacant  space.  All  eyes  were 
turned  upon  the  strangers,  as,  through  the  howling  wind  and  rush- 
ing rain,  they  bore  into  the  room  and  placed  upon  the  back  floor 
a  man  struggling  in  a  fit  of  epilepsy. 

"Well,  measter,  how  is  it  with  'un?"  said  the  foremost,  who 
was  a  stout,  rosy  fellow  from  the  laboring  class.  , 

No  answer  was  returned  to  the  inquiry  made  in  a  kindly  tone. 
The  personthus  addressed  still  continued  writhing  in  convulsions, 
and  perfectly  unconscious  of  his  own  identity,  or  of  that  of  any 
person  around  him. 

"  Put  a  tablespoonful  of  salt  into  his  mouth,  man,"  said  Corbett, 
the  cari)enter;  "  that  will  bring  him  to,  if  anything  will." 

The  simple,  but  powerful  remedy  was  promptly  administered  by 
Mary,  and  after  some  minutes,  the  paroxysms  of  the  disorder  grew 
less  violent,  and  the  sick  man,  with  a  lieavy  groan,  unclosed  his 
large,  dark  eyes,  and  gazed  vacantly  around  him — his  teeth  still 


1 

i 
I 


238 


FLORA     LTNDSAY. 


chattering,  and  his  muscular  limbs  trembling  like  one  in  an  aguo 
fit. 

"  Couraf^e,  mcaster,"  said  the  laliorer,  giving  him  a  friendly  slap 
on  the  shoulder.  "  'J'heru's  nought  that  can  hurt  thee  Imtc.  See, 
the  fire  burns  cheerfully,  and  'tis  Imman  creturs  an'  friends  that 
are  about  thoo." 

"  Is  it  gone,"  groaned  the  prostrate  fprm,  closing  l»is  eyes,  as  if 
to  shut  out  some  frightful  apparition — "gone  for  ever?" 

"  Ay,  vanished  clean  away  into  the  black  night."  ; 

-   "What  did  he  sec?"  cried  a  chorus  of  eager  voices  ;  and  every 
one  in  the  room  crowded  round  the  fallen  man. 

"  He  seed  old  Mason's  ghost  on  the  bridge,"  said  the  laborer, 
"  an'  I  seed  it  too.  An  ugsome-looking  cretur  it  wor,  an'  I  wor 
mortal  skcared ;  howdsomever,  when  measter  screeched  an'  fell,  I 
forgot  to  look  on  'un  agin,  1  wor  so  skcared  about  'un.  This  good 
man  com'd  along,  as  luck  wud  ha'  it,  and  helped  mC  to  carry  'un 
in  here.  For  my  part,  I  thought  as  how  Mcaster  Noah  was  dead ; 
an'  as  he  owed  me  four  pounds  an'  three  shillins  for  my  harvestin' 
with  'un,  an'  T  had  no  writin'  to  show  for  it,  I  thought  it  wud  be  a 
bad  job  for  me  an'  the  fam'Iy." 

"True,  neibor,"  said  the  other  bearer,  sentcntiously ;  "the 
sight  of  the  ghost  wor  nothin'  to  that." 

"And  did  the  ghost  speak  to  you?"  said  the  little  tailor. 

"  Na,  na,  I  b'leeve  that  them,  gentry  from  the  other  world  are 
sworn  over  by  Hatiin  to  hold  their  tongues,  an'  never  speak  unless 
spoken  to.  Howdsomever,  this  ghost  nover  said  a  word  ;  it  stood 
by  centre  arch  o'  bridge,  wrapped  up  iii  a  winding  sheet,  that  flid<- 
ered  all  over  like  moonlight ;  an'  it  shook  ter  heed,  an  glowered  on 
us  with  two  fiery  eyes  as  big  as  saucers,  an'  then  sunk  down  an' 
vanished." 

"  Oh,  it  was  him — him  !"  again  groaned  forth  the  terror-stricken 
man,  rising  to  a  sitting  posture.  "  He  looked  just  as  he  did,  that 
night — that  night  wc  found  him  murdered  !" 

"  Of  whom  do  you  speak.  Master  Cotton?"  said  the  little  tailor. 

"  Of  Squire  Carlos." 

"  Squire  Carlos  !  Did  the  ghost  resemble  him  ?  He  has  been 
dead  long  enough  to  sleep  in  peace  in  his  grave.  It  is  more  than 
twenty  years  agone  since  he  was  murdered  by  that  worthless  scamp 
Bill  Martin.    I  was  but  a  slip  of  a  lad  then.    I  walked  all  the  way 


n.ORA     LTNDSAT. 


239 


from to  Ipswldi,  to  sec  him  hung.     ITow  came  you  to  think 

of  him?" 

"  It  was  him,  or  some  domoti  in  hia  shape,"  said  Noah  Cotton — 
for  it  was  tiio  hero  of  my  talc?— now  aide  to  rise  an«l  take  tho  cliair 
that  the  jrossipinj;  litth;  tailor  olTered  him.  *'  If  ever  I  saw  Mr. 
CaHos  in  life,  1  saw  his  apparition  on  the  hri(l<,'e  to-nijjht." 

"  A  man  should  know  bi'^  own  father,"  rauseil  the  tailor  ;  "  and 
J  e  is  Jiot)  Mason  takes  the  same  apiH'arance  for  the  f,'ho3tly 

resemblance  of  his  own  rcupcctahle  progr'nitor.  nicro  is  some 
fltran<re  triekciT  in  all  this." 

"  What  the  dickens  should  brini,'  the  j^^host  of  Squ'n^  Carlos  so 
far  from  his  own  ])ari<h?  lie  wor  shot  in  liis  own  preserves  by 
IJill  Martin.  1  mind  the  cirenmstanee  quite  well.  A  pood  man 
wor  Uie  old  Squire,  but  over-particular  about  his  game.  If  I 
mistake  not,  you  be  Measter  Noah  Cotton,  whose  mother  lived  up 
ht  the  porter's  lodge  ?" 

Noah  nodded  assent,  but  he  didn't  socm  to  relish  tlicse  qui^tions 
nnd  reminiscences  of  the  honest  laborer,  while  Josh,  delighted  to 
hear  his  tongue  run.  continued — 

"  I  kind  o'  'spect  you've  forgotten  me,  Mister  Cotton.  I  used 
t  'vk  in  them  days  at  Farmer  Humphrey's,  up  Wood-lane. 
"^  .ivc  grow'd  an  old-looking  man  since  I  .seed  you  last      You 

were  voung  and  snrv  CMouirh  then.  I  didna'  b'leeve  the  tales  that 
volk  did  tell  of  'un — that  you  were  the  Squire's  own  son.  Hut 
you  be  as  loike  him  now  as  two  peas.  The  noebors  wor  right, 
arter  all."  "'         ;     ' 

The  stranger  winced,  and  turned  pale. 

**  They  say  as  how  you've  grow'd  a  rich  man  yoursel'  since  that 
time.     Is  the  old  'uman,  your  mother,  livin'  still  V 

"  She  is  dead,"  said  Noah,  turning  his  back  abruptly  on  the 
interrogator,  and  addressing  himself  to  the  mistress  of  the  house. 

"  Mrs.  Mason,  I  have  been  very  ill.  I  feel  better,  but  the  fit 
has  left  rae  weak  and  exhausted.  Can  you  give  me  a  bed  and  a 
room  to  myself,  where  I  could  sleep  the  effects  of  it  quietly  oft  ?" 

"  My  bods  are  engaged,"  was  the  curt  reply  of  the  surly  dame. 
*'  Pray,  how  long  have  you  IxK^n  subject  to  those  fits?" 

"  For  several  years.  Ever  since  I  had  the  typhus  fever  And 
now  the  least  mental  anxiety  brings  them  on." 

"  So  it  appears.     Particularly  the  sight  of  an  old  friend  when 


"I 


ii'l 


240 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


least  expected.    This  is  strange;"  and  she  smiled  signiScantly ; 
"  for  lie  was,  both  living  and  dead,  a  kind  friend  to  you." 

"  He  was,  indeed,"  sighed  the  stranger.  "  It  was  not  until  after 
I  lost  him,  that  I  knew  how  much  I  was  indebted  to  him."  Then 
suddenly  turning  from  her,  he  looked  steadfastly  towards  the  open 
door.  "  It  rains  cats  and  dogs,  mother  ;  you  surely  cannot  refuse 
me  a  bed  on  such  a  night  ?" 

"  I  have  already  told  you,  I  have  no  bed  to  spare.  To  speak 
the  plain  truth,"  she  added,  with  a  grim  sm.'e,  "  I  don't  like  your 
hang-dog  face,  and  want  none  of  your  company.  If  you'r6  afraid 
of  a  shad(»w,  you  are  either  a  great  coward  or  a  big  fool.  I 
despise  both  characters.  If  not,  you  are  a  designing  rogue,  and 
enough  of  such  folks  come  here  every  night." 

"  I  will  pay  yon  well  for  the  accommodation,"  urged  Noah, 
without  noticing  or  resenting  Martha'.^  malignant  speech. 

"  Mother,  he  be  as  rich  as  a  Jew,"  wlilspered  Josh,  in  her  ear.* 

The  hint,  disregardal  by  Mrs.  Mason,  was  not  unheeded  by 
Sophy  Grrmshawe,  who,  gliding  across  the  room,  said,  in  a  soft, 
persuasive  voice:  "Mr.  Cotton,  if  you  will  step  into  the  next 
house,  I  will  give  you  my  bed  for  the  night." 

"  The  bold  hussy !"  muttered  Martha. 

"  Is  it  far  to  go  ?"  and  Noah  shuddered,  as  he  glanced  into  the 
black  night. 

"  Only  a  step ;  just  out  of  one  door  into  the  other.  If  you  be 
afraid,"  she  continued,  looking  up  into  his  gloomy  but  handsome 
face  with  an  arch  smile,  "  I  will  protect  you.  I  am  afraid  of  thun- 
der, but  not  of  ghosts.  Come  along ;  depend  upon  it,  we  shall  not 
see  anything  worse  than  our^ves." 

"  There's  many  a  true  word  spoken  at  randon,"  said  Martha, 
glancing  after  the  twain,  as  the  door  closed  upon  them.  "  I'll  bet 
all  I'm  worth  in  the  world  that  that  fellow  is  not  afraid  of  nothing  ; 
he's  troubled  with  a  bad  conscience.  He's  a  hateful,  unlucky- 
looking  wretch !  I'm  glad  that  bold  girl  relieved  ma  of  his  com- 
pany." 

"  Martha,"  said  Josh,  "  you're  far  wrong  this  time.  Noah  Cot- 
ton do  bear  an  excellent  character ;  an'  then  he  has  lots  o'  cash." 
This  circumstance,  apparently,  gave  him  great  importance  in  the 
poor  man's  eyes.  "  That  Squire  Carlos,  who  wor  murdered  by 
Bill  Martin,  left  in  his  will  a  mort  o'  money  to  Noah  Cotton. 
People  dew  say  that  he  wor  his  son." 


FLORA     LYXDSAY. 


241 


■"  A  likely  story,  that !"  oricd  the  woman,  tossing  up  her  head. 

*'  He  is  very  like  the  Squire,  at  any  rate,"  said  the  little  t«ilor. 
**  I  knew  him  for  several  years,  nrid  always  found  him  a  decent, 
quiet  fellow — rather  proud,  and  fond  of  dressing  above  his  rank, 
perhaps  ;  but  then,  he  always  paid  bis  tailor's  bill  like  a  gentle- 
man. Indeed,  many  that  I  make  for,  who  call  themselves  gentlemen, 
might  take  pattern  by  him.  He  was  a  very  handsome  young  fel- 
low in  those  days — tall,  straight,  and  exceedingly  well  made  ;  aa 
clastic  and  supple  as  ajti  eel,  aifd  was  the  best  cricket-player  in  the 
county.  I  don't  know  what  en  have  come  across  Noah,  that 
he  looks  so  gaunt  and  thin,  and  is  such  an  old  man  before  his  time. 
He  has  been  given  to  those  terrible  fits  ever  since  lie  mf»de  one 
of  the  party  that  found  the  body  of  Mr.  Carlos.  It's  no  wonder  ; 
for  he  loved  the  Squire,  and  tlae  Squire  was  mortal  fond  of  him. 
He  became  very  religious  after  he  got  that  shock,  and  has  been 
a  very  strict  Methodist  ever  since.'' 

"  He's  not  a  bit  the  better  for  that,"  said  Martha.  "  The  great- 
est sinners  stand  in  need  of  the  longest  prayers.  I  thought  that  he 
had  been  a  Methodist  parson,  by  the  cul  of  his  jib.  Where,  my 
lads,"  turning  to  the  two  men  who  had  brought  him  in,  "did  you 
pick  the  fellow  up  ?" 

"  Why,  do  you  see,  mistress,  that  I've  lieen  a  harvesting  with  'un, 
an'  he  tuk  me  in  the  taxed  cart  with  'un  to  the  bi,nk,  to  get  change 
to  pay  me  my  wages.  Going  into  town  tJjis  morning,  the  boss  got 
skeared  by  some  boys  playing  at  ball.  The  ball  struck  tlie  beast 
plump  in  the  eye,  an'  cut  it  so  shocking  bad,  that  meaater  left  'ua 
with  the  boss  doctor,  and  proposed  for  us  to  walk  home  in  the  cool 
o'  th6  evening,  as  tlic  distance  is  only  eight  miles  or  thereabouts. 
Before  we  starts  home,  he  takes  me  to  the  Crown  Inn,  and  treats 
me  to  a  pot  of  ale,  an'  whiki  there  he  meets  with  some  old  acquaint- 
ance, who  was  telling  him  how  he  knew  his  father,  old  Noah,  in 
'Mericky  ;  an'  how  he  had  died  very  rich,  an'  left  his  money  to  a 
wife  ke  had  there,  that  he  never  married.  An'  I  thought  as  how 
measter  didn't  much  like  tlie  news,  as  his  fether,  it  seems,  had  left 
him  nothing— not  even  his  blessing.  Well,  'twas  nigh  upon  twelve 
o'clock  when  we  started,  *  You'd  better  stay  all  night,  measter,' 
Sfiys  I ;  '  'tis  nigh  upon  morning.'  '  Sam  Smith,'  says  he, '  I  can- 
not sleep  out  o'  ray  own  bed;'  and  off  we  sets.  On  the  bridge  wo 
heerd  the  first  big  clap  o'  thunder ;  the  next  minute  we  sor  the 
ghost,  and  my  measter  gives  a  screech  which  might  have  roused 

11 


242 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


old  Squire  Carlos  .from  the  dead,  and  straight  fell  down  in  a  fit. 
The  ghost  vanished  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye  ;  an'  I  met  this  good 
man,  who  helped  me  to  bring  Noah  up  here.  He'd  a  kind  measter, 
Noah  Cotton,  but  a  wonderful  timersome  man.  I've  heerd  him, 
when  we've  been  at  work  in  the  fields,  start  at  the  shivering  of  aa 
aspen  leaf,  and  cry  out,  '  Sam !  what's  that  ?'  " 

"  Did  not  Noah  say  summat  about  having  lost  his  yellow  can- 
vas bag  with  his  money  ?"  asked  the  other  man ;  *'•  and  that  the 
ghost  laid  hold  on  him  with  a  hand  as  cold  as  ice  ?" 

"  What,  did  a'?"  and  Sam  Smith  opened  his  large,  round  eyes, 
and  distended  his  wide,  good-natured  mouth,  with  a  look  of  blank 
astonishment. 

"  If  the.  ghost  robbed  Noah  Cotton  of  his  canvas  bag,  that  was 
what  no  living  man  could  do !"  cried  Bob  Mason,  bursting  into  the 
room,  and  cutting  sundry  mad  capers  round  the  floor.  "  Hurrah 
for  the  ghost  I" 


CHAPTER  XXXVII, 


THE     rBOPOSAL. 

We  will  now  step  into  the  widow  Grimshawe's  cottage,  and  see 
how  Sophy  disposed  of  her  guest. 

The  lower  room  was  in  profound  darkness,  and  the  little  semjv 
stress  bade  her  companion  stay  at  tlie  door  while  she  procured  a 
light  from  the  rush-Candle  that  always  burned  in  her  mother's 
chamber  above. 

"  Do  not  leave  me  in  the  dark  !"  he  cried,  in  a  voice  of  childish 
terror,  and  clutching  at  her  garments.     '*  I  dare  not  be  alone !" 

"  Nonsense  !  There  are  no  ghosts  here.  I  will  not  be  gone  an 
instant." 

"  Let  me  go  with  you." 

"  What !  to  my  sick  mother's  bed-room  ?  That  cannot  be. 
Perhaps,"  she  continued,  not  a  little  astonished  at  his  extreme 
timidity,  "  the  ashes  may  still  be  alive  in  the  grate.  I  think  I 
perceive  a  faint  glimmer ;  but  you  had  better  alkiw  me  to  fetch  a 
light  from  mother's  room  ?" 

"  Oh  no !  not  for  the  world.  I  beseech  you  to  stay  where  you 
are." 

Sophy  knelt  d«wn  by  the  hearth,  and  raking  among  the  ashes, 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


243 


succeeded  at  last  in  finding  a  live  coal,  which  she  blew  into  a 
blaze ;  and  lighting  a  candle  she  had  left  on  the  table,  placed  it 
before  him. 

Her  strange  gaest  had  sunk  down  into  a  large  wooden  arm-chair 
beside  it,  his  head  bent  upon  his  clasped  hands,  his  eyes  shut,  and 
traces  of  tears  upon  his  death-pale  cheeks ;  his  lips  were  firmly 
compressed,  and  his  countenance  immovable  and  rigid. 
!  Sophy  gazed  long  and  silently  upon  him.  The  sympathy  of 
woman,  be  she  good  or  bad,  is  always  touched  by  the  sight  of  a 
man's  tears.  Sophy  was  selfish  and  vain — all  her  faults  might  be 
comprised  under  those  two  heads ;  but  she  could  not  bear  to  wit- 
ness sorrow  and  sufiering  without  trying  to  alleviate  it,  unless  it 
demanded  the  sacrifice  of  some  personal  gratification  that  she 
wanted  strength  of  mind  to  relinquish. 

The  stranger  had  awakened  her  sympathy,  which  the  knowledge 
that  he  was  comparatively  rich  did  not  tend  to  diminish ;  and  she 
examined  his  countenance  with  a  degree  of  interest  and  attention 
which  hitherto  htjd  been  foreign  to  her  nature,  who  had  never  seen 
anything  to  love  or  admire  beyond  herself. 

For  a  person  in  his  station,  Xoah  Cotton  was  a  remarkable 
man.  His  features  were  high  and  regular,  his  air  and  demeanor 
that  of  a  gentleman,  or  rather  of  one  who  had  been  more  used  to 
mingle  with  gentlemen,  than  with  the  class  to  which  his  dress  indi- 
cated him  to  belong.  His  age  exceeded  forty.  His  raven  hair, 
that  curled  in  close  masses  round  his  high  temples,  was  thickly 
sprinkled  with  grey;  his  sallow  brow  deeply  furrowed,  but  the 
lines  were  not  those  produced  by  sorrow,  but  care.  He  looked  ill 
and  unhappy  ;  and  though  his  dress  was  of  the  coarse  manufacture 
generally  adopted  by  the  small  yeoman  or  farmer,  his  linen  was  fine 
and  scrupulously  clean  ;  in  short,  he  was  vastly  superior  to  any  of 
the  meii.  that  frequented  the  "  Brig's  Foot." 

''  You  are  ill,"  said  Sophy,  laying  her  hand  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  speaking  in  a  soft,  gentle  tone.  "  Let  me  get  you  something 
to  eat.  I  can  give  you  some  new  bread,  and  a  bowl  of  fresh 
milk." 

"  Thank  you,  my  kind  girl,"  he  replied,  unclosing  his  large,  dark, 
melancholy  eyes,  and  regarding  her  neat  little  figure,  and  fair,  girl- 
ish face,  with  fixed  attention  ;  "  I  am  not  hungry." 

"  Oh,  do  take  a  little."    And  Sophy  placed  the  simple  contents 


244 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


of  the  cupboard  on  the  table  before  him.  *'  It  would  give  me  real 
pleasure  to  see  you  eat." 

"  Then  I  will  try  to  please  you." 

But,  after  taking  a  draught  of  the  milk,  Noah  pushed  the  bowl 
from  him,  and  turning  gloomily  to  the  fire,  which  was  now  bright- 
ening into  a  ruddy  glow,  throwing  cheerful  red  gleams  to  every 
distant  corner  of  the  room. 

"  And  did  you  really  see  the  ghost  ?"  asked  Sophy,  who  was 
dying  with  curiosity  to  hear  the  tale  from  his  own  mouth.  And 
she  drew  a  low  bench  beside  him,  and  gazed  earnestly  up  into  his 
face.  "  I  thought  the  stories  about  it  were  all  humbug — a  trick 
played  off  upon  the  public  by  that  worthless  scamp,  Bob  Mason." 

The  man  started  from  his  abstracted  fit. 

**  Don't  speak  of  it  now,  my  pretty  maid.  Let  yon  and  I  talk 
of  something  else." 

"  But  I  should  like  so  to  know  all  about  it.  You  said,  when 
you  were  coming  to,  out  of  that  frightful  fit,  that  it  was  the  ghost 
of  a  Mr.  Carlos." 

"  Then  I  was  a  fool !"  muttered  Noah  ;  but,  recovering  himself, 
he  said,  "  I  was  one  of  the  band  of  men  who  found  the  body  of 
Squire  Carlos,  on  the  night  he  was  murdered  in  his  own  planta- 
tion, by  Bill  Martin,  a  notorious  smuggler  and  poacher  I  was 
very  young  at  the  time;  the  Squire  had  been  a  kind  friend  to  mo 
and  my  mother,  and  the  horrid  sight  made  such  a  powerful  impres- 
sion on  my  mind  that  it  almost  deprived  me  of  my  sense?,  and  it 
has  haunted  me  ever  since.  I  see  him  at  all  hours  of  the  day,  but 
most  generally  the  vision  comes  before  me  at  night,  and  produces 
these  terrible  fits.    The  doctors  call  itMlisease — I  think  it  fate." 

"  How  dreadful  1"  and  Sophy  recoiled  involuntarily  a  few  paces 
from  her  guest. 

There  was  a  long  silence.  Sophy  tried  to  shake  off  the  chill 
that  had  fallen  upon  her  heart,  by  vigorously  poking  the  fire.  At 
length  she  ventured  a  glance  at  her  silent  companion.  He  was 
looking  down  intently  at  her." 

"  You  seem  pretty  old,"  she  said,  with  that  bluntness  so  common 
to  uneducated  people,  and  from  which  those  above  them  wince  in 
disgust — "  are  you  married  ?" 

"  No,  my  dear ;  a  bachelor,  at  your  service." 

"  If  you  had  a  wife  and  children,  they  would  cure  yon  of  these 
strange  fancies." 


FLORA    A^YNOSAT. 


245 


**  Do  you  really  think  so  ?" 

"  I  am  sure  of  it." 

There  was  another  long  silence. 

Her  companion  heaved  a  deep,  melancholy  sigh,  and  his  thoughts 
seemed  to  break  out  into  words,  without  any  intention  on  the  part 
of  their  owner. 

"  I  have  plenty  to  keep  both  wife  and  children,  and  I  would 
gladly  marry  to-morrow,  if  I  thought  any  good  woman  would  have 
me." 

Sophy  smiled,  and  looked  down  into  her  lap.  She  twisted  the 
strings  of  her  checked  apron  round  her  fingers,  the  apron  itself  into 
every  possible  shape.    At  length  she  started  from  her  seat. 

"  Where  are  you  going  ?"  cried  the  stranger,  in  a  tone  of  akirm. 

"  To  make  you  up  a  bed." 

"  I  would  rather  remain  by  the  fire  all  night,  if  you  will  prom- 
ise to  stay  with  me." 

"  But  my  mother  would  wonder  what  had  become  of  me.  I 
must  leave  you,  aud  go  to  bed." 

Noah  caught  her  little  hand  as  she  glided  past  him,  and  pulled 
her  violently  back — 

"  I  will  not  part  with  you — ^you  must  stay." 

"  Bless  me,  how  timid  you  are !  How  you  shake  and  tremble  1 
I  cannot  understand  this  fear  in  a  big  man  like  you." 

"  I  should  grow  courageous  if  you  w^ere  always  by  my  side." 

"  Perhaps  you  would  soon  be  as  much  afraid  of  me  as  of  the 
ghost,"  said  Sophy,  looking  up  into  his  sad  eyes  with  a  playful 
smile. 

"  The  ghost  again !  Bui  tell  me,  my  pretty  maid,  have  you  a 
sweetlieart  ?" 

"  What  girl  of  eighteen,  who  is  not  positively  ugly,  has  not?" 
returned  Sophy,  evasively. 

"  But  one  whom  you  prefer  to  all  others  ?" 

"  I  have  never  yet  seen  that  fortunate  individual." 

"  And  is  there  no  one  for  whom  you  feel  any  particular  liking  ?" 

"  None,  I  assure  you." 

"  Good,"  said  Noah,  musingly.     "  Have  you  a  father  ?" 

"  He  was  drowned  in  a  heavy  gale,  during  the  fishing  season, 
some  years  ago." 
.    "A  mother?" 

"  Yes ;  but  she  has  been  bed-ridden  with  the  palsy  ever  since 


246 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


futhci  died.  Qricf  for  his  sudden  loss  brought  it  oa.  There  are  no 
hopes  of  her  ever  regaining  the  use  of  her  limbs  now." 

"  Any  brothers  or  sisters?" 

"One  sister,  the  hunch-backed  girl  you  saw  in  the  next  house  ; 
the  rest  are  all  dead.  I  lost  a  young  sister  about  six  weeks  ago. 
She  was  only  sixteen  years  of  age,  and  as  good  as  she  was  beautiful. 
Every  body  loved  and  respected  Charlotte,  and  she  died  so  happily. 
It  was  well  for  her.  I  have  often  envied  her  since  she  left  us.  I 
never  knew  what  an  angel  she  was,  until  after  we  lost  her."- 

Noah  sighed  again,  and  was  silent  for  some  minutes.  At  length 
he  said — 

"  Is  it  only  good  people  that  die  in  peace  ?" 

"  I  don't  know,"  said  Sophy.  "  Charlotte  was  the  only  person  I 
ever  saw  die ;  and  her  last  words  to  us  I  shall  never  forget.  *  Dear 
ones,'  she  said,  while  a  smile  from  heaven  rested  upon  her  lips, '  do 
not  weep  for  me.  These  lost  moments  of  my  life  are  the  most  joy- 
ful, the  happiest  I  have  ever  known.  I  can  now  fully  realize  that 
peace  which  our  blessed  Redeemer  promised  to  all  His  faithful  fol- 
lowers— a  peace  which  surpasseth  human  understanding.  May  that 
His  peace  and  blessing  iv^t  upon  you  all." 

Again  Noah  sighed,  and  covered  his  face  with  his  hands,  and  re- 
mained so  long  in  that  attitude,  that  Sophy  imagined  he  had  fallen 
asleep.    At  length  he  raised  his  head,  and  said — 

"  Your  father  is  dead,  your  mother  infirm  and  old,  your  only  sis- 
ter sickly  and  deformed,  and  yourself  so  young  and  pretty,  with  no 
brothers  to  protect  or  work  for  you — how  do  you  contrive  dear  girl 
to  maintain  yourself  and  them  ?" 

"  Alas  !  we  are  very  poor,"  said  Sophy,  bursting  into  tears.  "  I 
do  all  1  can  to  supply  the  wants  of  the  family.  I  have  to  work  day 
and  night,  and  'Mary  too,  who  has  a  cruel  mistress,  in  order  to  earn 
our  bread,  yet  we  are  often  on  the  point  of  starvation  ;  both  of  ns 
are  tasked  beyond  our  strength — and  I  for  one  am  heartily  weary 
of  my  life." 

"  Dear  child,"  and  Noah  wound  his  arm  about  her  waist,  and 
kissed  away  the  tears  from  her  bright  blue  eyes — "  if  you  could  love 
and  cherish  an  old  man — old  at  any  rate  to  you,  although  barely 
turned  of  forty,  I  could  give  both  you  and  your  afflicted  mother  and 

sister  a  comfortable  home.  I  have  a  pleasant  cottage  at  F ,  and 

fifty  acres  of  good  arable  land,  a  horse  and  gig,  six  fine  milch  cows, 
and  plenty  of  pigs  and  poultry,  an  income  of  two  hundred  per  an- 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


241 


nnm  in  the  "bank,  which  is  increasing  every  year,  simply  becansc  I 
have  enough  to  supply  my  household  without  touching  either  capi- 
tal or  interest"  This  property  I  will  settle  upon  you  at  my  death, 
if  you  will  become  my  wife." 

Sophy's  hand  trembled  in  his.  A  bright  crimson  suffused  her 
cheek,  her  heart  leapt  wildly  withiJi  her  breast ;  but  she  could  not 
find  a  word  of  answer, 

" I  have  been  a  bachelor  all  my  life,"  continued  Noah,  "and  a 
dull,  cheerless  life  it  has  been  to  ine.  I  had  a  mother  to  take  caro 
of  in  her  old  age,  and  I  loved  her  too  well  to  place  a  wife  over  her, 
who  had  beea  so  longtlic  mistress  of  my  home.  She  is  only  lately 
dead,  and  I  feel  lonely  and  sad  without  her.  I  have  often  thought 
that  I  could  love  a  wife  very  much.  ]  am  sure  I  could  love  you 
Wliat  say  you  to  it,  my  girl  ?    Is  it  to  be  a  match?" 

Sophy  thought  of  the  horse  and  gig,  and  the  six  cows,  of  the  pigs 
and  poultr}%  of  the  comfortable  home  ;  and  above  all  this,  she  hug- 
ged closely  to  her  heai-t  tlic  £200  per  annum  that  was  to  be  hers, 
besides  all  the  rest  of  the  worldly  g<x)ds  and  chattels  at  his  death. 
8he  looked  down  upon  her  faded,  shabby  calico  dress,  and  round 
upon  the  scantily  furnished  room,  and  thought  of  the  cold,  dark 
winter  nights  that  were  coming,  and  how  ill-proparod  they  wore  to 
aieet  them.  She  romemben^  the  days  of  toil,  the  nights  of  waking, 
watching  beside  tlie  feverish  bod  of  a  querulous  old  woman,  and 
she  knew  how  fretful  and  impatient  she  was,  and  how  her  soul 
abhored  the  task  ;  and  f»lic  turned  her  bright  e^'os  to  the  face  of  lior 
melancholy  lover,  and  placed  her  small  hand  in  his,  and  said  in  a 
low,  soft  voice,  that  was  music  to  his  heart — 

"  I  will  try  to  love  you,  ajid  will  be  your  wife,  if  you  will  only 
be  kind  to  mother  and  Mary,  and  take  ns  from  this  Iiateful  place." 

Transported  with  joy,  he  promised  all  that  she- asked. 

All  night  they  sat  by  the  fire,  hand  in  lia.»id,  talking  over  their 
future  prospects  ;  and  the  next  morning  Sophia  introduced  Noah 
Cotton  to  her  mother  and  sister,  as  her  future  husband,  and  bade 
ihem  rejoice  in  their  altero<l  fortunes.  Human  nature  is  full  of 
etrange  contradictions,  and  it  so  happened  that  the  mother  and  sis- 
ter did  not  rejoice  :  and  instead  of  approving  of  the  match,  they 
remonstratetl  vehemently  against  it. 

Sophy  thought  them  foolish  and  ungrateful.  She  grew  angry, 
and  remained  obstinately  fixed  to  her  purpose,  and  the  affair  ended 
ill  a  family  rupture. 


S48 


FLORA    LYND3AY. 


Mrs.  Grimshawe  refused  to  live  with  Sophy,  if  she  married  Xoah 
Cotton  ;  and  Mary  could  not  leave  her  mother.  Mary,  who  was  a 
shrewd  observer  of  human  cliaractev,  was  greatly  struck  with  tlue 
scene  she  had  witnessed  in  tlie  public  bouse.  She  did  not  like  Noah 
Cotton.  She  suspcctoil  him  to  be  a  bad  man,  wlio  was  laboring 
under  the  pangs  of  remorse  ratlwr  than  of  disease.  She  had  conv 
municated  these  fears  to  her  mother,  and  to  this  circumstance  miglvt 
be  attributed  her  steady  rcfiisal  to  sanction  a  niarriage  so  advan- 
tageous, in  a  pecuniary  point  of  vicw^  to  them  all. 

Sophy  was  determined  to  secure  the  rich  husband,  and  have  her 
own  way ;   and  the  very  next  week  she  became  the  wife  of  the 

wealthy  fanner,  and  the  newly-wedded  pair  left in  a  neat  gig, 

to  spend  the  honeymoon  in  Noah  Cottott's  rural  homestead,  in 
the  pretty  parish  of  F . 


CHAPTER    XXXYIII. 


TflK    DISCLOSinm. 

Twenty  months  passed  away,  and  the  yoimg  bride  had  never 
once  been  home  to  vi«it  her  old  friends.  Her  mother  grew  more 
inflrra  and  feeble  every  day,  and  pined  sadly  after  her  absent  child; 
and  the  tears  were  often  upon  ^Nfary's  elieelw.  Sophy's  act  of  wilr 
fill  disobedience  liad  been  forgiven  from  tlie  hour  that  the  thought- 
less rebel  had  become  a  wifc ;  l>ut  her  neglect  rankled  in  the  heart 
of  both  mother  and  sister. 

*•  She  has  forgotten  iw  c^uite,"  said  the  ailing  old  woman.  "The 
distance  is  not  gi-cat.  She  inight  come,  especially  as  her  husband 
keeps  a  horse  and  chaise ;  and  what  are  ten  miles  after  all  ?  I  hava 
often  walked  double  that  in  ray  young  day  to  see  a  friend,  much 
more  a  mother  and  sister.  Weil,  I  sliall  not  be  here  long — I  tl-el 
that.  The  day  of  my  release  will  be  a  welcome  one  to  me,  and 
she  will  bo  sorry  when  I  am  gone  that  sig.  neglected  to  come  and 
SCO  me. 

Now,  though  Dorothy  Grimshawe,  in  her  nervous,  querulous 
state,  grumbled  wer  the  absence  of  her  daugliter,  she  was  never  so 
dear  to  the  heart  of  her  faulty  child  as  at  the  very  time  she  conv 
plained  of  her  neglect. 

Sophy  Cotton  never  knew  the  real  value  of  a  mother's  love  until 
she  felt  upon  her  own  shoulders  the  cares  and  responsibilities  of  a 


FLORA     LYNDSAY. 


249 


nouse.  She  longed  intensely  to  see  her  mother  and  Mary  again,  ob 
the  nice  presents  of  butter,  ham,  and  eggs  that  she  was  constantly 
sending  to ,  might  have  testified  for  her ;  but  there  were  pain- 
ful reasons  tljat  made  a  meeting  with  her  mother  and  sister  every- 
thing but  desirable  to  the  young  wife. 

She  was  changed  since  they  parted.  Her  marriage  had  been 
contrary  to  their  wishes  ;  she  did  not  like  that  they  should  know 

all — but  if  she  did  not  go  over  to in  the  chaise,  she  went 

nowhere  else — never  did  the  most  loving  bride  keep  more  closely  at 
home. 

Once  Mrs.  Grimshawe  asked  of  her  daughter's  messenger,  a 
rough  clodhopper,  whom  she  had  summoned  to  her  bed-side  in  order 
to  gratify  her  curiosity  and  satisfy  'iCr  doubts,  the  reason  of  Mrs. 
Cotton's  long  silence — "  Was  she  well  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  but  she  had  lost  her  rosy-checks,  and  was  not  so  blithe 
as  when  she  first  came  to  the  porchcd-house." 

"  Did  her  husband  treat  her  ill  ?" 

"  Na,  na  ;  he  petted  her  like  a  spoilt  child ;  yet  she  never  seemed 
happy,  or  contented-like." 

"  What  made  her  unhappy  then?" 

"  He  could  na'  just  tell — women  were  queer  creturs.  Mayhap 
it  was  being  an  old  man's  wife  that  fretted  her,  and  that  was  but 
natural,  seeing  that  a  pretty  young  thing  like  her  might  have  got 
a  husband  nearer  her  own  age,  which,  for  sartin,  would  ha'  been 
more  to  her  taste." 

•*  Was  she  likely  to  have  any  family  ?" 

"  No  signs  o'  the  like.  It  had  na'  pleased  the  Lord  to  multi- 
ply Noah's  seed  upon  the  earth." 

"  Was  he  stingy  ?" 

"  Na,  na ;  they  had  allers  plenty  to  yeat.  He  was  a  kind  mcas- 
tor,  an'  good  pay.  There  was  only  their  two  selves,  and  Mrs. 
Cotton  was  dressed  like  a  lady,  and  had  everything  brave  and  new 
about  her ;  but  she  looked  mortal  pale  and  thin,  an'  he  b'lieved 
that  she  was  in  the  consumption." 

The  man  went  his  way,  and  the  old  woman  talked  to  Mary  about 
her  daughter  half  the  night. 

"  She  was  always  discontented  with  her  lot,"  she  remarked, 
"  when  single.  Change  of  circumstances  seldom  changed  the  dis- 
position. Perhaps  it  was  Sophy's  own  fault  that  she  was  not 
happy." 

U* 


m.  ¥ 


I 


260 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


Mary  thought  that  her  motlicr  was  right ;  but  she  felt  so  anxious 
about  her  sister,  that  she  determined  to  leave  her  mother,  for  a  few 

days,  to  the  care  of  a  kind  neighbor,  and  wolk  over  to  F ,  to 

ascertain  how  matters  really  stood.  But  her  mother  became  seri- 
ously ill,  which  hindered  her  from  putting  this  scheme  into  prac- 
tice ;  and  her  uneasiness  on  her  account  banished  Sophy  and  her 
affairs  out  of  her  mind. 

Other  events  soon  took  place  that  made  a  material  alteration 
in  their  circumstances.  Mr  Rollins,  their  benefactor,  died  suddenly 
abroad,  and,  leaving  no  will,  the  pension  allowed  to  Mrs.  Grini- 
shawe  died  with  him.  His  nephew  and  heir  had  given  them, 
through  his  steward,  onJcrs  to  qu»*  their  present  abode,  and  poverty 
and  the  workhouse  stared  them  in  the  face. 

Hearing  of  their  distress,  Noah  C\>tton  came  over  himself  to  sec 
them,  and  generously  offered  them  a  home  with  him  and  his  wife 
as  long  as  they  lived.  This  was  done  so  kindly,  that  the  sick 
woman  forgot  all  her  old  prejudices,  and  she  and  Mary  thankfully 
accepted  his  offer.  But  when  the  time  came  for  their  removal,  the 
old  woman  was  too  ill  to  be  taken  from  her  bed,  and  the  surly 
steward  reluctantly  consented  that  she  might  remain  a  few  days 
longer. 

Mary  was  anxious  to  leave  the  house.  Since  the  appearance 
of  old  Mason's  ghost,  a  most  unpleasant  notoriety  was  attached  to 
it,  and  the  most  disorderly  scenes  were  constantly  being  enacted 
beneath  its  roof.     Persons  had  been  robbed  to  a  considerable 

amount  upon  the  road  leading  to ,  which  atlast  attracted  the 

attention  of  the  tardy  magistrates,  and  a  large  reward  was  offered 
for  the  apprehension  of  the  person  who  performed  the  principal  part 
in  this  disgraceful  drama.  Still,  no  discovery  was  made,  until  one 
night  Bob  Mason  was  shot  by  Tom  Weston,  who  had  sworn  to 
take  the  ghost  alive  or  dead.  The  striking  resemblance  this  pro- 
fligate young  man  bore  to  his  father  had  enabled  him  to  deceive 
many  into  the  belief  that  he  was  the  person  he  representetl.  H  is 
mother,  who  was  not  in  the  secret,  had  never  been  on  good  terms 
with  her  son  since  he  had  personated  the  ghost ;  and  the  remarks 
he  made  upon  his  father  she  considered  as  peculiarly  insulting  to 
herself,  and  his  dreadful  end  drove  her  mad,  and  this  nest  of  ini- 
quity was  broken  up.    Such  is  the  end  of  the  wicked. 

Let  us  now  relate  what  had  happened  at  the  Porched  House,  to 
change  the  worldly  Sophy  Grimshawe  into  a  polo  and  care-worn 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


251 


woman.  Slie  did  not  love  Noah  Cotton,  when  she  con?«entcd  to 
become  his  wife  ;  but  he  wa3  superior  to  her  in  wealth  and  station, 
and  \m  psesenoe  inspired  her  with  respect  and  awe.  lie  was 
p^ave  and  taciturn  ;  but  to  her  \w  was  invariably  generous  and 
kind.  Every  indulj^ence  and  luxury  he  could  afford  was  hxvishly 
bestowed  on  his  youn;^  wife  ;  and  if  he  diil  not  express  his  attach- 
jncnt  with  the  ardor  of  a  yootliful  lover,  he  paid  her  a  thousand 
little  tender  attentions  which  sufficiently  proved  the  depth  of  his 
affection  and  esteem. 

lie  was  f^rateful  to  her  for  marryinj^  hira  ;  and  Sophy  was  not 
insensible  to  his  efforts  to  rtnder  her  comfortable  and  happy.  But 
liappy  she  was  not,  nor  was  ever  likely  to  be. 

Noah  was  a  solitary  man — had  been  so  from  his  youth.  He  had 
been  accustomed  to  live  so  many  years  with  his  old  mother,  and 
to  mix  so  little  with  his  neighbors,  that  it  had  made  him  silent  and 
unsociable.  After  the  first  week  of  their  marriage,  he  had  particu- 
larly requested  his  young  wife  to  try  and  conform  to  his  domestic 
habits,  and  she  endeavored,  for  some  time,  to  obey  him.  But,  at 
her  age,  and  with  her  txste  for  show  and  gaiety,  it  was  a  difficult 
matter.  Yet,  after  a  while,  she  mechanicjilly  sunk  into  the  same 
dull  apathy,  and  neither  went  from  homo,  nor  invited  a  guest  into 
the  house. 

Twelve  months  pa-ssed  away  in  this  melancholy,  joyless  sort  of 
existence,  when  an  old  woman  and  her  daughter  caine  to  reside  in  a 
cottage  near  them.  Mrs.  Martin  was  a  kind,  gossiping  old  body  ; 
her  daughter  Sarah,  though  some  years  older  than  Mrs.  Cotton,  was 
lively  and  very  pretty,  and  gained  a  tolerably  comfortable  living 
for  herself  and  her  mother  by  dress-making.  They  had  once  or 
twice  spoken  to  Sophy,  on  her  way  to  tlie  Methodist  chapel,  but 
neter  when  her  husband  was  present,  and  she  was  greatly  taken 
by  their  manners  and  appearance. 

"Noah,  dear,"  she  said,  pressing  his  arm  caressingly,  as  they 
were  coming  home  one  Wednesday  evening  from  the  aforesaid 
chapel,  "may  I  invite  Mrs.  Mar'  n  and  her  daughter  Sarah  to 
drink  tea  with  us  ?  They  are  strangers,  and  it  would  but  be  kind 
and  neighborly  to  slww  them  some  little  attention." 

"  By  no  means,  Sophy,"  he  cried,  with  a  sudden  start ;  "  these 
people  shall  not  enter  my  house." 

"  But  why  ?" 

"  I  have  ray  reasons.    They  are  no  friends  of  mine.    They  are 


...I 


2i>2 


JLORA  i.vxus.vr. 


no  strangers  io  nic.  Thoy  livwl  here  long  ago,  and  were  forced  t» 
loiivo  the  place,  after  her  son,  a  uiischicvous,  turbuleat  fellow,  wa« 
huup^." 

••  Mrs.  Martin's  son  Uun^  I— what  for  ?  I  thoaglttt  they  ha^I 
been  decent,  respectable  peq)le !" 

"  There  is  uo  judjufing  jxjople  by  appoaranec,"  smid  Noah,  bitterly. 
•'  I  look  a  decent  fe)'  w,  yet  I  have  been  a  great  sinner  in  my  early 
days.  And,  with  regard  to  these  Martins,  tlu)  less  yon  have  to  <li^ 
with  them,  Sophy,  the  better.  I  tell  you,  once  for  all,  1  will  huv* 
uo  intimacy  with  them." 

lie  spoke  in  a  sterner  voice  than  ho  had  over  bcfc*e  used  to  hit 
young  wife.  Sophy  was  piqued  and  hurt  by  his  look  and  manner ; 
and  though  she  felt  very  curious  to  ask  a  thousand  questions  about 
tliasc  Martins,  and  on  what  score  tlicy  Lud  given  him  such  olFence, 
Noah  grew  so  cross,  and  siwke  so  angrily  whenever  she  alluded  to 
the  subject,  that  she  tboi\ght  it  most  pru»knt  to  hold  her  tongue.  » 

From  the  hour  that  these  Martijis  came  to  reside  at  F , 

Noah  Cotton  seeuicd  a  dinbront  creulurc.  lie  was  more  sullen  and 
Fcserval,  and  his  attendance  at  the  chapel  was  more  frequent,  llifi 
countenance,  always  pale  and  care-worn,  now  wore  a  troubled  and 
anxious  expresnion,  and  his  athletic  form  wasted  until  he  became 
perfectly  haggard — the  very  spectre  of  his  former  self. 

In  spite  of  his  stern  prohibition,  Sophy,  if  she  did  Jiot  ask  the 
Martins  to  the  house,  often,  during  her  httsbaiuVs  alienee,  slipped 
in  to  chat  and  gossip  with  them.  Kre  long,  her  own  countenance 
underwent  a  visible  change,  and  her  wasted  figure  and  ncgleetcd 
dress  led  a  stranger  to  suspet-t  that  she  wius  eitlier  in  a  decline,  or 
suffering  from  great  mental  depression. 

Several  weeks  elapsed,  and  Mrs,  (.'otton  had  not  been  seen  out- 
side lM)r  dwelling  by  any  of  the  neighbors.  !Mrs.  Martin  and  Sarah 
wondered  what  ailed  her,  and  both  at  length  concluded  that  sin: 
must  be  seriously  ill.  But,  as  no  doctor  was  seen  visiting  at  the 
house,  and  Noah  went  about  his  fann  as  usual,  this  could  hardly 
be  the  case.    They  were  puzzled,  and  knew  not  what  to  think.     At 

last,  on  the  day  that  Noah  went  over  to ,  in  order  to  remove 

Mrs.  Grimshawc  and  Mary  to  his  own  abode,  the  mystery  was 
solved,  and  Sophy  came  across  the  road  to  visit  her  neighbors, 

"  Mercy,  child  I  what  aileth  thee?"  cried  the  old  woman,  hobbling 
to  meet  her,  perfectly  astonished  at  the  melancholy  alteration  which 
a  few  wottk  of  seclusion  had  made  iu  Mrs.  Cottou'g  appearance. 


forh 


lier. 


FLORA     I.Y.NDSAT. 


263 


i 


"  You  ore  ill,  Mrs.  Cotton,"  paid  Surah,  placing  the  easy-chair 
for  her  giicst  beside  the  fire. 

"  I  Imvo  not  felt  well  for  some  time,"  rctnrned  Sophy,  trying  to 
aeom  composed  ;  "  and  now,  the  alarming  illness  of  my  poor  mother 

has  quite  upset  me.     I  would  have  gone  with  Noah  to to  see 

her,  but  indeed  I  was  not  able," — and  she  burst  into  tears. 

"  How  long  bath  she  been  sick  ?"  asked  the  inquisitive  old 
dame. 

"  Only  a  few  days.  Noah  took  the  horse  and  cart  to  fetch  her 
and  Mary  home  to  live  with  as.  It  is  kind  of  Noah — very  kind. 
But,  God  forgive  me!  I  almost  wish  they  mayn't  come." 

"  Why  child,  it  would  cheer  thee  up  a  bit.    I  am  Bure  thee  want- 
est  some  one  to  take  care  o'  thee." 
,    "  I  v^ould  rather  be  alone,"  sighed  the  young  wife. 

"  What  has  come  over  thee,  Sophy  Cotton  ?"  said  the  old  woman 
coming  up  to  her  and  laying  her  hand  on  her  shoulder,  while  she 
peered  earnestly  into  her  face.     "  I  never  saw  such  a  cruel  change 
in  a  young  cretur  in  tlie  course  of  a  few  weeks  !     But  there  may 
be  a  cause — a  natural  cause,"  and  she  smiled  signiGcantly. 

"  No,  no,  thunk  goodness  !  You  are  wrong — quite  wrong,  Mrs. 
Martin.  No  child  of  mine  will  ever  sport  upon  my  threshold,  or 
gather  daisies  beside  my  door ;  and  I  am  thankful — so  thankful, 
that  it  is  so !" 

"  That's  hardly  in  natur'.  Most  o'  woman-kind  lore  young  chil- 
dren— 'specially  their  own." 

"  My  ilear  Mrs.  Cotton,"  said  Sarah,  soothingly,  "  you  look  ill 
and  miserable — do  tell  us  what  makes  you  so  unhappy." 

"  Indeed,  Surah,  I  can't."    And  Sophy  wept  afresh. 

*'  Is  Noah  cross  to  you  ?" 

"  Quite  the  reverse — he's  the  kindest  of  men." 

•'  He  looks  very  stern." 

•'  His  looks  belie  him." 

"  A  nd  do  you  love  him  ?" 

"If  I  did  not,  I  should  not  be  so  miserable ;"  and  Sophy  laid  her 
head  «T  wn  upon  her  knees  and  wept  aloud. 

"  "k  ..  Cotton,  you  distress  us  greatly,"  continued  Sarah,  taking 
her  cold,  passive  hand.  "  Won't  you  tell  a  friend  and  neighbor  the 
reason  of  this  grief?" 

But  Sophy  only  vept  as  if  her  heart  were  breaking.  The  mother 
and  danghtor  luokod  at  each  otli«r. 


H 


i! 


<  i 


i> 


254 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


The  old  woman  returned  again  to  the  charge  :      "  '"' 

"  Tell  one  who  loves  thee  like  a  mother."  A  deep,  long-drawn 
sigh  was  the  only  answer. 

"  Speuk  out  your  mind,  dear,"  said  Sarah,  pressing  affectionately 
the  thin,  wast(»d  hand  that  lay  so  passively  within  her  own.  "  It 
will  ease  your  heart." 

"  Ah,  if  I  thought  you  would  tell  no  one/'  and  Sophy  raised  her 
death-pale  face,  and  fixed  her  earnest  eyes  mournfully  upon  her 
interrogator,  "  I  would  confide  to  you  my  trouble  ;  but  oh,  if  you 
were  so  cruel  as  to  betray  me,  it  would  drive  me  mad." 

"  Sure  we  can  be  trusted,  Mistres.s  Cotton,"  and  the  old  woman 
drew  herself  up  with  an  air  of  offended  dignity,  "  What  interest 
could  Sarah  and  I  have  to  betray  thee  ?  we  be  no  idle  gossips  going 
clacking  from  house  to  house  about  matters  that  don't  concern  us. 
What  good  could  it  do  us  to  blab  the  secrets  of  other  folk." 

"  It  is  only  anxiety  for  your  welfare,  dear  Mrs.  Cotton,"  whis- 
pered Sarah,  "  that  makes  us  wish  to  know  what  it  is  that  troubles 
you." 

"  I  believe  you,  my  kind  friends,"  replied  Sophy.  "  I  know  I 
should  feel  bettor  if  I  had  the  thing  off  my  mind.  It  is  dreadful 
to  bear  such  a  burden  alone." 

"  Does  not  vour  husband  know  it?" 

"  That  h  what  occasions  me  such  grief;  I  dare  not  tell  him  what 
ve>:i?3  me ;  I  once  hinted  at  it,  and  I  thought  he  would  have  gone 
mad.  You  wonder  why  I  look  so  pule  and  thin  ;  how  can  it  be 
otherwise,  when  I  never  get  a  sound  night's  rest?" 

"  What  keeps  you  awake?"  exclaimed  both  women  in  a  breath. 

"  My  hdsba.d  !  He  does  nothing  bul  rave  a  1  night  in  his  sleep 
about  some  person  he  murdered  years  ago." 

'J'he  women  exchanged  significant  glances. 

"Oh,  if  you  could  but  hear  his  dreadful  cries — tro  piteous  moans 
be  niukc" — the  fran{'3  prayers  he  puts  up  to  God  to  forgive  him 
for  his  great  crime,  and  take  him  out  of  the  fires  of  hell,  it  would 
make  your  hair  stand  on  end  ;  it  makes  mo  shive^  and  tremble  ail 
over  with  fear.  And  then  to  see,  by  the  dim  lif,lit  of  the  rush  can- 
dle, (for  he  never  sleeps  in  the  dark,)  the  big  drops  of  sweat  thut 
stand  upon  his  brow  and  trickle  down  hisghaatiy  face ;  to  hear  him 
grind  and  gnash  his  teeth  in  despair,  and  howl  in  a  wild  sort  of 
agony,  as  he  strikes  at  the  walls  with  his  clenrhed  fists ;  it  would 
make  you  pray,  Mrs.  Martin,  as  I  do,  for  the  light  of  day.    Yjs, 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


255 


yes,  it  is  killing  me — I  know  it  is ;  it  is  horrible  to  live  in  constant 
dread  of  the  coming  night — to  shrink  in  terror  from  the  husband  in 
whose  bosom  you  should  rest  in  poacd." 

"  Doth  this  happen  often?"  asked  Mrs.  Martin. 

"  Evory  night  for  the  last  two  months  ;  ever  since  you  came  to 
live  near  us.  He  used  always  to  be  afraid  of  the  dark,  and  some- 
times made  a  noise  in  his  sleep,  but  he  never  acted  as  he  does  now. 
Once  I  asked  him  what  he  was  dreaming  about,  and  why  he  always 
fancied  that  he  had  murdered  some  one,  when  asleep.  He  flew  at 
me  like  a  maniac,  and  swore  that  he  would  throttle  me  if  he  ever 
heard  me  ask  such  foolish  questions  again ;  that  people  could  not 
commit  murder  in  their  sleep — that  they  must  be  wide  awake  to 
dhcd  blood." 

*'  Ay,  ay,"  said  the  old  woman,  with  a  malignant  smile,  "  doubt- 
less he  knows.  Does  he  ever  mention  the  name  of  the  person  he 
murdered,  in  his  sleep?" 

"  Constantly.  Did  you  ever,  Mrs.  Martin,  hear  of  a  person  of 
the  name  of  Carlos  ?" 

But  the  old  woman  did  not  answer.  A  change  had  passed  over 
her  face,  as.  with  a  cry  of  triumph  she  sprang  from  her  seat  and 
clapped  her  hands  in  an  ecstasy  of  joy — it  might  rather  be  termed 
of  gratified  revenge.  "  Ay !  'tis  out  at  last!  tis  out  at  last  1  My 
God  !  I  thank  ihee  I  I  thank  thee !  Yes,  yes,  '  Vengeance  is  mine, 
I  will  repay,  saith  the  Lord  1'  My  Bill !  my  brave  Bill !  and  thee 
hadst  to  die  for  this  man's  crime !  but  God  has  righted  thee  at  last 
— at  last,  in  spite  of  this  villain's  evidence,  who  swore  that  thy 
knife  did  the  deed,  when  he  plunged  i*  himself  into  the  rich  man's 
Jicart.  Ha,  ha,  I  shall  live  to  be  revenged  upon  him — 1  shall,  I 
shall !" 

•'  What  have  I  done  ?"  shrieked  the  unhappy  wife.  "  I  have 
betrayed  my  husband  into  the  hands  of  his  enemies!"  and  she  sunk 
down  at  the  old  woman's  feet  like  one  dead.  Gloating  over  Ikt 
anticipated  revenge,  Mrs.  Martin  spurned  the  prostrate  form  with 
her  foot,  a"  she  scornfully  commanded  her  more  humane  daughter 
"  to  sr  after  Xoah  Cotton's  dainty  wife,  while  she  went  to  the 
mo.  istrate's  to  make  a  deposition  of  what  she  had  heard." 

Shocked  beyond  measure  at  wha  lie  had  heard  and  seen, 
ashamal  of  her  mother's  violence,  and  sorry  for  Sophia's  unliapi)y 
disclosure  ;  as  she  well  knew  that,  whether  the  actual  murderer  of 
Squire  Garld  or  only  an  accomplice,  her  brother  was  a  bad  mno. 


f 


n 


256 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


who  deserved  his  fate.  Sarah  tenderly  raised  the  fainting  Sophy 
from  the  ground,  and  placed  her  on  her  own  bed.  Long  ere  the 
miserable  young  woman  retunrcd  to  a  consciousness  of  the  result  of 

her  own  imprudence,  her  husband,  who  had  returned  from 

without  b^r  sister  or  mother,  was  on  his  way  to  the  county  jail.       ■ 


CHAPTER   XXXIX. 


THE   NIOIIT   ALONE. 

Sophy  returned  to  her  desolate  home,  the  moment  she  recovered 
her  senses  ;  for  the  sight  of  the  Martins  filled  her  mind  with  inex- 
pressible anguish.  On  entering  the  little  keeping-room,  she  shut 
the  door,  and  covering  her  head  with  her  apron,  sat  down  in  Noah's 
chair  by  the  old  oak  tabic,  on  which  she  buried  her  face  in  her 
iiands,  and  remained  silent  and  astonished  during  the  rest  of  the 
day. 

"  Shall  I  sleep  with  you  to-night,  Mrs.  Cotton  ?"  said  Sarah 
Martin,  in  a  kind,  soft  voice ;  as  towards  the  close  of  that  long, 
blank  day,  she  opened  the  door,  and  looked  iu  upon 

"  That  deAolale  widow — but  not  of  the  dejtd." 

"  No,  Sarah,  thank  you ;  I  would  rather  be  alone,"  was  tho 
brief  reply. 

Sarah  lingered  with  her  hand  still  on  tho  lock.  Sophy  shook 
htr  head  impatiently,  as  much  as  to  say,  "Go,  go ;  I  must  be 
obeyed  ;  1  know  the  wor8t  now,  and  wish  no  second  person  to  look 
upon  n.y  remorse — niy  grief — my  bitter  humiliation."  Sarah  un- 
derstood it  all.  The  door  slowly  closed,  and  Sophy  was  once  more 
alune. 

Many  hour^  passed  away,  and  the  night  without,  dark  and  star- 
less, had  deepened  around  her  cold  hearth,  and  Sophy  still  sat  there 
with  her  head  bowed  upon  the  table,  in  a  sort  of  despairing  stupor, 
unconscious  of  everythi;"«r  but  the  overwhelming  sense  of  intense 
misery. 

Then  came  painful  thoughts  of  her  past  life ;  hei  frequent  quar- 
rels with  her  good  sisters  ;  her  ui  kindness  and  neglect  tu  hersuHer- 
ing  mother ;  her  ingratitude  to  G<  d  ;  and  the  discontented  repinings 
over  her  hambU  lot,  which  had  lad  to  hor  pr«ft«nt  situation.    Sha 


row  ; 
band. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


257 


bad  sold  herself  for  money  ;  and  the  wealth  she  had  so  criminally 
coveted,  was  the  price  of  blood,  and  from  its  envied  possession  no 
real  enjoyment  had  flowed.  The  poverty  and  discomfort  of  her 
raotlier'd  cottage  were  small,  when  compared  to  the  heart-crushing 
misery  she  at  tliat  moment  endured. 

Then  she  thought  of  her  husband  ;  thought  of  her  selfish  impru- 
dence in  betraying  his  guilt — that  in  his  approaching  trial  she  nnist 
appear  us  a  principal  witness  against  him  ;  and  that  her  testimony 
would,  in  all  probability,  consign  him  to  the  scaffold. 

►She  felt  that,  however  great  the  magnitude  of  his  crime,  he  liud 
bitterly  repented  of  it  lon<^  ago  ;  that  he  had  suffered  untold  agonies 
of  remorse  and  contrition  ;  that  his  punishment  had  been  more  than 
his  reason  could  well  bear ;  that  he  had  sufKired  more  from  the 
pangs  of  conscionce  than  he  ever  could  experience  from  the  hands 
of  man.  *  All  his  kindness  to  her,  since  the  day  she  became  his 
wile,  returned  to  her  with  a  sense  of  tenderness  she  never  had  fi'It 
for  him  before.  She  never  suspected  how  deeply  she  loved  him,  till 
hhe  wivs  forced  to  part  from  him  for  ever ;  and  her  soul  melted 
within  h(T,  and  she  shed  floods  of  tears. 

She  saw  him  alone  in  the  dark  dungeon,  surrounded  by  the  fright- 
ful phantoms  of  a  guilty  conscience,  with  no  pitying  voice  to  soothe 
his  overwhelming  grief,  or  speak  words  of  jHiaco  or  comfort  to  his 
tortured  spirit,  and  she  inly  exclaimed,  "  I  will  go  to  him  to-mor- 
row ;  I  will  at  least  say  to  him,  '  I  pity  you,  my  dear,  unhappy  hus- 
band. I  pray  you  to  forgive  me  for  the  great  evil  I  have  brought 
upon  you.' ' 

And  with  this  thought  uppermost  in  her  mind,  the  miserable  girl, 
overcome  l)y  her  long  fast,  and  worn  out  by  the  excitement  of  tlio 
jKist  day,  fell  into  a  profound  sleep. 

^Vnd  lo,  in  the  black  darkness  of  that  dreary  rot  i  she  thought 
she  beheld  a  bright,  shining  light.  It  spread  and  brightened,  and 
flowed  all  around  her  like  the  purest  moonlight,  and  the  centre  con- 
ilonsed  into  a  female  form,  smiling  and  beautiful,  which  advuncin;^, 
liiid  a  soft  hand  upon  her  head,  and  whispered  in  tones  of  inelTuble 
sweetness — 

"  Pray — pray  for  him  and  thyself,  and  thou  shalt  find  peace." 
Ami  the  face  and  the  voice  were  those  of  her  dead  sister  (jharlotte, 
and  a  sudden  joy  shot  into  her  heart,  and  the  vision  faded  away, 
and  she  awoke,  and  behold  it  was  a  dream. 

And  Sophy  rose  up,  and  sank  down  upon  the  ground,  and  buried 


'4 


ni 


II 


-s 


! 


258 


FLORA    LYXDSAY. 


her  face  in  her  hands,  and  tried  to  pray,  for  the  firet  time  in  her  life, 
earnestly  and  truthfully,  in  the  firm  belief  that  He  to  whom  she 
addressed  her  petition  was  able  to  help  and  save  her,  in  her  hour  of 
need.  Few  and  imperfect  wei*e  her  words  ;  but  they  flowed  from 
the  heart,  and  He  who  looks  upon  the  heart,  gave  an  answer  of 
peace. 

Memory,  ever  faithful  in  the  hour  of  grief,  supplied  her  with  a 
long  catalogue  of  the  sins  and  follies  of  a  misspent  life.  Deeply 
she  acknowledged  the  vanity  and  nothingness  of  those  things  in 
which  slie  had  once  felt  such  an  cjiger  childish  delight ;  and  she 
asked  forgiveness  of  her  Maker  for  a  thousand  faults  that  she  had 
never  acknowledged  as  faults  before. 

The  world  to  the  prosperous  has  many  attractions.  It  is  their 
paradise,  they  seek  for  no  other ;  and  to  part  with  its  enjoyments 
comprises  the  bitterness  of  death.  Even  the  poor  work  on,  and 
hope  for  better  days.  It  is  only  the  wounded  in  spirit,  and  sad  of 
heart,  that  reject  its  allurements,  and  turn  with  their  whole  soul  to 
God.  Out  of  much  tribulation  they  are  ne\/-born  to  life — that 
better  life  promised  to  them  by  their  liOrd  and  i^aviour. 

Sophy  was  still  upon  her  knees,  when  tlie  grey  light  of  a  rainy 
October  morning  gradually  strengthened  into  day.  Gloomy  and 
lowering,  it  seemed  to  regard  her  with  a  cheerless  sc.'owl  as,  shivering 
with  cold  and  excitement,  she  unclosed  the  door,  and  stepped  forth 
into  the  moist  air. 

"  IIow  like  my  earthly  destiny !"  she  sighed.  "  But  there  is  a 
sun  behind  the  dark  clouds,  and  hope  exists,  even  for  a  wretch  like 
me." 

The  sound  of  hoviies'  hoofs  approaching  rapidly  struck  upon  her 
car,  and  the  next  moment  she  had  caught  hold  of  the  bridle  of  the 
nearest  rider.  They  were  the  constables,  who  had  conducted  Noah 
to  prison,  returning  to  the  village. 

"  Tell  me,"  she  crietl,  in  a  voice  which  much  weeping  had  rend- 
ered hoarse,  and  almost  inarticulate,  "  something  about  my  poor 
husband — will  he  be  hnng?" 

"Nothing  more  certain,"  rejMed  the  person  thus  addressed. 
"  Small  chance  of  escape  for  hini.  The  foolish  fellow  has  confessed 
all." 

"  Then  he  did  really  commit  the  murder?" 

"  Worse  than  that.  Mistress,  he  drew  his  own  neck  out  of  the 
noose,  and  let  another  fellow  suGTer  the  death  ho  richly  deserved. 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


259 

He 


By  his  own  account,  hanging  is  too  good  for  snch  a  monster, 
should  be  burnt  alive," 

"  May  Gwl  forj^ive  him !"  exclaimed  Sophy,  wringing  her  hands. 
"  Alas!  alas !    He  was  a  kind,  good  man  to  me." 

"  Don't  take  on,  my  dear,  after  that  fashion,"  said  the  other 
horseman,  with  a  knowing  leer.  "  You  were  no  mate  for  a  fellow 
like  him.  Young  and  pretty  as  you  are,  you  will  soon  get  a  bet- 
ter husband." 

Sophy  turned  from  the  speaker  with  a  sickening  feeling  of  dis 
gust  at  him  and  his  ribald  jest,  and  staggered  back  into  the  house. 
.She  was  not  many  minutes  in  making  up  her  mind  to  go  to  her 
husband  ;  and  hastily  packing  up  a  few  necessaries  in  a  small  bun- 
dle, she  called  the  old  serving  man,  who  had  lived  with  her  hus- 
band for  many  years,  and  bade  him  harness  the  horse  and  drive  her 
toB . 

The  journey  was  long  and  dreary,  for  it  rained  the  whole  day. 
Sophy  did  not  care  for  the  rain  ;  the  dulness  of  the  day  was  more 
congenial  to  her  present  feelinirs  :  the  gay  beams  of  the  sun  would 
have  seemed  a  mockery  to  her  bitter  sorrow. 

As  they  passed  through  the  village,  a  troop  of  idle  boys  followetl 
them  into  the  turnpike  road,  shouting,  at  the  top  of  their  voices — 

"  There  goes  Noah  Cotton's  wife  I — the  murderer's  wife  1  Look 
how  grand  she  be  in  her  fine  chaise." 

"  Ay,"  responded  some  human  fiend,  through  an  open  window, 
loud  enough  to  reach  the  ears  of  the  grief-stricken  woman  ;  "  but 
pride  will  have  a  fall." 

The  penitent  Sophy  wept  afresh  at  these  insults.  "  Oh,"  she 
sighed,  "  I  deserve  all  this.  I  was  too  proud.  But  they  don't 
know  how  miserable  I  am,  or  they  would  not  causelessly  inflict 
upon  me  another  wound." 

"  Doan't  take  on  so,  Missus,"  said  the  good  old  serving-man, 
who,  though  he  said  nothing  to  her  on  the  subject,  felt  keenly  for 
her  distress.  "  Surely  it's  no  fault  o'  yourn.  You  worn't  born,  I 
guess,  when  Mea.ster  did  this  fearsome  deed.  I  ha'  lived  with  Xoo 
these  fourteen  years,  an'  I  never  'sjwctinl  him  o'  the  like,  lie's 
about  as  queat  a  man  as  ever  I  seed.  He  wor  allers  kind  to  tlio 
dumb  beasts  on  the  farm,  an'  you  know.  Missus,  that's  a  good 
sign.  Some  men  are  sich  tyrants,  that  they  must  vent  their  bad 
humors  on  sufiSn.  If  the  survunt  doan't  cotch  it,  why  the  poor 
dumb  creturs  in  their  power  dew.    Now,  1  say,  Noc  wor  a  good 


1^ 


260 


FLOBA    LYNDSAT. 


Meoster,  both  to  man  an*  beast,  an'  I  pray  they  may  find  him  in- 
nocent yet." 

Sophy  had  no  hopes  on  the  subject.  She  felt  in  her  sonl  that 
he  was  guilty.  The  loquacity  of  honest  Ben  pained  her,  and  in 
order  to  keep  him  silent,  she  remained  silent  herself,  until  thoy 
reached  the  metropolitan  town  of  the  country,  in  which  the  assiz'is 
were  always  held,  which  was  not  until  late  in  the  evening. 

She  could  gain  no  admittance  within  the  jail  that  night,  and 
Sophy  put  up  at  a  small  but  neat  public  house  near  at  hand. 
From  the  widow  who  kept  the  house,  she  heard  that  the  assizes 
were  to  be  held  the  following  week,  and  that  there  was  no  doubt 
but  what  the  prisoner,  Noah  Cotton,  would  be  found  guilty  of 
death.  Hut  her  son,  ^ho  was  the  jailor,  thought  it  more  than  prob- 
able that  he  would  cheat  the  hangman,  as  he  had  scarcely  tasted 
fo(xl  since  he  had  been  in  prison.  Mrs.  Cotton  then  informed  the 
widow  that  she  was  the  wife  of  the  prisoner,  and  confided  to  her 
enough  of  her  history  to  create  for  her  a  strong  interest  in  the 
breast  of  the  good  woman.  She  did  not  fall  to  convey  the  same 
feeling  with  regard  to  Sophia,  to  her  son,  who  promised  her  an  early 
interview  witli  her  husband  on  the  following  morning,  and  to  do  all 
for  her  and  him  that  lay  in  his  power. 

Clieered  with  this  promise,  the  weary  traveller  retired  to  her 
chaml)er,  and  slept  soundly.  iJefore  si-v  in  the  morning,  she  found 
herself  in  the  presence  of  her  husband. 


CHAPTER    XL. 


THE     MKETIXO. 


"  My  husband !  my  d(Mir  husband !  and  it  was  my  imprudence 
that  brought  you  to  this  !"  cried  Sophy,  as  she  fell  weeping  upon 
the  neck  of  the  felon,  clasping  him  in  her  arms,  and  kissing  with 
passionate  grief  the  tears  from  his  haggard,  unshaven  face. 

"  Hush,  my  precious  lamb,"  he  replied,  folding  her  in  his 
eml trace.  "  It  was  not  you  who  betrayed  me,  it  was  the  »roice 
of  God  speaking  through  a  guilty  conscience.  I  am  thankful ! — 
oh,  so  thankful  that  it  has  taken  place — that  the  dreadful  secret 
is  known  at  last !  I  enjoyed  last  night  the  first  quiet  sleep  I  have 
known  for  years — slept  without  being  haunted  by  him  I" 


'     FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


261 


"  And  with  death  staring  you  in  the  face,  Noah?" 

"  What  is  death,  Sophy,  to  the  agonies  I  have  endured  ? — the 
fear  of  detection  by  day — the  eyes  of  the  dead  glaring  upon  me  all 
night  ?  No  ;  I  feel  happy,  in  comparison,  now.  I  have  humbled 
myself  to  the  dust — have  wept  and  prayed  for  pardon  ;  and  oh,  my 
sweet  wife,  I  trust  I  am  forgiven — have  found  peace " 

"  When  was  this  ?"  whispered  Sophy. 

"  The  night  before  last." 

"  How  strange  !"  murmured  Sophy.  "  We  were  together  in 
spirit  that  night.  I  never  knew  how  dear  you  were  to  me,  Noah, 
until  that  night.  How  painful  it  would  be  to  me  to  part  with  you 
for  ever !" 

"  It  was  cruel  and  elfish  in  me,  Sophy,  to  join  your  fate  to  miuo 
— a  monster,  stained  with  the  blackest  crimes.  But  I  thought 
myself  secure  from  detection — thought  that  my  sin  would  Aever 
find  me  out,  that  I  had  managed  matters  with  such  incomparable 
skill  that  discovery  was  impossible,  that  the  wide  eacth  did  not 
contain  a  witness  of  my  guilt.  Fool  that  I  was.  The  voice  of 
blood  never  sleeps ;  from  out  the  silent  dust  it  calls  night  and  duy 
in  its  ceaseless  appeals  for  vengeance  at  the  throne  of  God.  I 
have  heard  it  in  the  still,  dark  night,  and  above  the  roar  of  the 
crowd  in  the  swarming  streets  of  London  at  noon-day ;  and  ever 
felt  a  shadowy  hand  upon  my  throat,  and  a  cry  in  ray  car — Thou 
art  the  man .' 

"  There  were  moments  when,  goaded  to  madness  by  that  voice, 
I  felt  inclined  to^ive  myself  up  to  justice ;  l)ut  pride  withheld  me, 
and  the  dismal  fear  of  those  haunting  fiends  chasing  me  through 
eternity,  was  a  hell  I  dared  not  encounter.  My  soul  was  parched 
with  an  unquenchable  fire  ;  I  was  too  hardened  to  pray." 

"  Noah,"  said  Sophy,  looking  earnestly  into  his  hollow  eyes, 
"  you  are  not  a  cruel  man  ;  you  were  kind  to  your  old  mother — 
have  been  very  kind  to  me.  How  came  you  to  commit  such  a 
drcadftil  crime?" 

The  man  groaned  heavily,  as  he  replied — 

"  It  was  pride — a  foolish,  false  shame  of  low  birth  and  honest 
poverty,  that  led  me  to  the  desperate  act." 

"  I  have  felt  something  of  this,"  said  Sophy,  and  her  tears  flowed 
afresh.  "  I  now  sec  that  sinful  thoughts  are  but  the  seeds  of  sinful 
deeds,  ripened  and  matured  by  bad  passions.    Perhaps  I  only  need- 


H  J  A 


262 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


ed  a  stronger  temptation  to  be  guilty  of  crimes  as  great  as  that  of 
which  you  stand-charged:" 

"  Sophy,"  said  her  husband,  solemnly,  "  I  wish  my  fate  to  serve 
as  a  warning  to  others.  Listen  to  me.  In  the  long  winter  eve- 
nings after  my  mother  died,  I  wrote  a  history  of  my  life.  I  did  this 
in  fear  and  trembling,  lest  any  human  eye  should  catch  me  at  my 
task,  and  learn  my  secret.  But  now  that  I  am  called  upon  to 
answer  for  my  crime,  I  wish  to  make  this  sad  history  beneficial  to 
ray  fellow-creatures. 

"  After  I  am  gone,  dear  Sophy,  and  you  return  to  F ,  lose 

no  time  in  taking  to  your  home  and  making  comfortable  your 
poor  afflicted  mother  and  sister  for  the  remainder  of  their  days. 
This  key" — and  he  drew  one  from  his  pocket — "  opens  the  old- 
fashioned  bureau  in  our  sleeping-room.  In  the  drawer  nearest  to 
the  window  you  will  find  my  will,  in  which  I  have  settled  upon  you 
all  that  I  possess.  I  have  no  relations  who  can  dispute  with  you 
the  legal  right  to  this  property.  There  is  a  slight  indenture  in  the 
wood  that  forms  the  bottom  of  this  drawer  ;  press  it  hard  with 
your  thumb,  and  draw  it  back  at  the  same  time,  and  it  will  dis- 
close an  inner  place  of  concealment,  in  which  you  will  find  a  roll 
of  Bank  o^  England  notes  to  the  amount  of  £500.  This  was  the 
money  stolen  from  A[r.  Carlos  the  night  I  murdered  him.  It  is 
stained  with  his  blood,  and  I  have  never  looked  at  it  or  touched  it 
since  I  placed  it  there,  upwards  of  twenty  years  ago.  I  never  had 
the  iieart  to  use  it,  and  I  wish  it  to  be  returned  to  the  family. 

'*  In  this  drawer  you  will  likewise  find  the  papers  containing  an 
account  of  the  circumstances  that  led  to  the  commission  of  the  crime. 
You  and  Mary  can  read  them  together ;  and  oh  !  as  you  read,  pity 
and  pray  for  the  unhappy  murderer." 

He  stooped,  and  wiped  the  drops  of^ perspiration  from  his  brow ; 
audjlhe  distress  of  his  young  wife  almost  equalled  his  own,  as  she 
kissed  away  the  tears  that  streamed  down  his  pale  face.  His  breath 
came  in  quick,  convulsive  sobs,  and  he  trembled  in  every  limk. 

"  I  feel  ill,"  he  said,  in  a  faint  voice ;  "  these  recollections  make 
me  so.  There  is  a  strange  fluttering  at  my  heart,  as  if  a  bird  beat 
its  wings  within  ray  breast.  Sophy,  ray  wife — my  blessed  wife  I 
can  this  be  death  7" 

Sophy  screamed  with  terror,  as  he  reeled  suddenly  forward,  and 
fell  to  the  ground  at  her  feet.    Her  cries  brought  the  jailer  to  her 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


263 


assistance.  They  raised  the  felon,  and  laid  him  on  his  bed  ;  bat  lifd 
wo^extinct.  The  at^itation  of  his  mind  had  been  too  great  for  hia 
exhausted  frame.  The  criminal  had  died  self-condemned  under  the 
arrows  of  remorse. 


CHAPTER  XU. 


THE   MUKDERER's   MANUSCRIPT. 

WiTO  am  I,  that  I  should  write  a  book  ?  a  nameless,  miserable 
and  guilty  man.  It  is  because  these  facts  stare  me  in  the  face,  and 
the  recollection  of  my  p:vst  deeds  goads  me  to  madness,  that  I  would 
fain  unburlhen  my  conscience  by  writing  this  record  of  myself. 

I  do  not  know  wluvt  parish  in  England  had  the  discredit  of  being 
my  native  place.     I  can  just  remember,  in  the  far  off  days  of  my 

early  childhooil,  coming  with  my  mother  to  live  at  F ,  a  pretty 

rural  village  in  the  fine  agricultural  county  of  S .    My  mother 

was  called  Mrs.  Cotton,  and  was  reputed  to  be  a  widow,  and  I  was 
her  only  child.  Whetlicr  she  had  ever  been  married,  the  gossips  of 
the  place  considered  very  doubtful.  At  that  period  of  my  life,  this 
iniportant  fact  was  a  matter  to  nio  of  perfect  indifference. 

I  wius  a  strong,  active,  healthy  boy,  quite  able  to  take  my  own 
jiart  and  defend  my  own  rights,  against  any  lad  of  my  own  age  who 
dared  to  ask  impertinent  question-^. 

The  great  man  of  the  village — Squire  Carlos  tw  he  was  called — 
lived  in  a  grand  hall,  surrounded  by  a  stately  park,  about  a  mile 

from  P ,  on  the  main  road  leading  to  Tiondon.   His  plantations 

and  game  preserves  extcMided  for  many  miles  along  the  ])ublic  lh<v 
roughCare,  and  my  mother  kept  the  first  porter'.s  lodge  nearest  the 
village. 

The  Squire  had  been  married,  but  his  wife  had  been  dead  for 
some  years.  He  was  a  tall,  handsome  man,  in  middle  life,  and  bore 
the  character  of  having  bwn  a  very  gay  man  in  his  youth.  It  was 
whispered,  among  the  aforesaid  village  gossips,  that  these  indiscre- 
tions hat]  shortened  the  days  of  his  lady,  who  lovi^d  him  psuisionately  ; 
at  any  rate,  she  died  of  consumption  before  she  had  complete*!  her 
twenty-fourth  year,  without  leaving  an  heir  to  the  estate,  and  the 
Squire  never  marrietl  again.  • 

Mr.  Carlos  often  canwj  to  the  lodge — so  often,  that  he  seldom 
passed  through  the  gate  on  his  way  to  and  from  the  Hall,  without 


^. 


H 


264 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


stopping  in  to  chat  with  my  mother.  Thia  was  when  he  was  alone, 
accompanied  by  strangers,  he  took  no  notice  of  us  at  all.  Ji/iy 
mother  generally  sent  me  to  open  the  gate.  The  gentlemen  used  to 
call  me  a  pretty,  curly-headed  boy,  and  I  got  a  great  deal  of  small 
change  from  them  on  hunting  days.  I  remember  one  afternoon, 
when  opening  the  gate  for  a  largo  party  of  gentlemen,  with  the 
Stjuirc  at  their  head,  that  one  of  them  tapped  my  cheek  with  his 
riding  whip,  and  exclaimed — 

•'  Hy  Jove  !  Carlos,  that's  a  handsome  boy." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  said  another ;  "  the  very  picture  of  his  father. 

And  the  Squire  laughwl,  and  they  all  laughed  ;  and  when  I  went 
back  into  the  lodge,  I  showed  my  mother  a  handful  of  silver  I  had 
received,  and  said — 

"  Mother,  who  was  my  father  ?" 

•'  Mr.  Cotton,  of  course,"  she  answered,  gravely,  "  but  why» 
Noah,  do  you  mAi  ?" 

"  Because  I  want  to  know  something  about  him. 

But  my  mother  did  not  choose  to  answer  impertinent  questions ; 
and,  thougli  greatly  addicted  to  telling  long  stories,  she  seemed  to 
know  very  little  about  the  private  memoirs  of  Mr.  Cotton.  She 
informed  me,  however,  that  he  had  been  a  fellow-servant  with  IiTt 
in  tlic  Squire's  employ  ;  that  he  quarrelletl  with  her  gliorily  after  I 
was  born,  and  left  her,  and  she  did  not  know  what  hud  l)ecomc  of 
him,  but  she  believe<l  he  went  to  America,  and  from  his  long  silence, 
she  concluded  that  he  had  been  dead  for  some  years;  that  out  of 
respect  for  his  services,  Mr.  Carlos  had  placed  her  in  her  present  com- 
fortable situation,  and  that  I  muet  show  my  gratitude  to  Mr.  Carlos 
for  all  ho  had  done  for  us,  by  the  most  dutiful  and  obliging  behav- 
iour. I  likewise  learned  from  her,  that  I  was  called  Noah,  after 
my  father. 

This  brief  sketch  of  our  family  history  was  perfectly  satisfactory 
to  mc  at  that  time.  I  remember  feeling  a  strong  interest  in  my 
unknown  progenitor,  and  used  to  csustle-build  and  speculate  about 
his  fate. 

In  the  meanwhile,  I  found  it  good  policy  strictly  to  obey  my 
mother's  injunctions,  and  the  alacrity  which  I  displayed  in  waiting 
upon  the  Squire  and  his  guests,  never  failed  in  securing  a  harvest 
of  small  coin,  which  gftve  me  no  small  importance  in  the  eyes  of  the 
lads  in  tlkc  village,  who  waited  upon  me  with  the  same  diligence 
that  I  did  upon  the  Squire*  in  order»  no  doubt«  to  come  in  for  a 


FLORA    LYN'DSAT. 


265 


share  of  the  spoil.  Thus  a  lovd  of  acquiring  without  labor,  and  of 
obtaining  admirers  without  any  merit  of  my  own,  was  early  fos- 
tered in  my  heart,  which  led  to  a  taste  fur  fine  dress  and  a  boastful 
display  of  superiority,  by  no  means  consistent  with  my  low  birth 
and  humble  means. 

In  due  time  I  was  placet!  by  Mr.  Carlos  at  the  village  school, 
and  the  wish  to  be  thought  the  first  scholar  in  the  scliool,  and  excel 
all  my  companions,  stinmlaled  me  to  Icam  with  a  diligence  and 
determination  of  purpose,  which  soon  placed  mc  at  the  top  of  my 
ch&ss. 

There  was  only  one  boy  in  the  school  that  dared  to  dispute  my 
supremacy,  and  he  had  by  nature  what  I  acquired  with  great  toil 
and  difficulty — a  most  retentive  memory,  which  enabled  him  to 
repeat,  after  once  reading,  a  task  which  took  mc  several  days  of 
hard  study  to  learn.  How  I  envied  him  this  faculty,  which  I  justly 
considered  possessed  no  real  merit  in  itself,  but  was  a  natural 
gift.  It  was  not  learning  with  him,  it  was  mere  reading.  Ho 
would  just  throw  a  glance  over  the  book,  after  idling  half  his  time 
in  play ;  and  then  walk  up  to  the  muster,  and  say  it  off  without 
making  a  single  blunder.  lie  was  the  most  careless,  reckless  boy 
in  the  school,  and  certainly  the  cleverest.  I  hated  lam.  I  could 
not  bear  that  lie  should  equal,  and  even  surjiass  me,  when  he  took 
uo  pains  to  learn. 

If  the  master  had  d<»;»e  him  common  justice,  I  should  never  havo 
stood  above  him.  But  for  some  reason,  best  known  to  himself,  ho 
always  favored  me,  and  snubbed  Bill  Martin,  who,  in  return,  played 
him  a  thousand  impish  tricks,  and  taught  the  other  boys  to  rebel 
against  his  authority.  Bill  calletl  me  the  obsueakioiis  young  gentle- 
man, and  Mr.  Bullen,  thq.  master,  the  Squire's  Toady. 

There  was  constant  war  between  this  lad  and  me.  We  were 
pretty  equally  matched  in  strength  ;  for  the  victor  of  to-day, 
was  sure  to  be  beaten  on  the  morrow ;  the  boys  generally  took 
part  with  Martin.  Such  characters  are  always  popular,  and  ho 
had  many  admirers  in  the  school.  My  aversion  to  this  boy  made 
mc  restless  and  unhappy.  I  really  longed  to  do  him  some  injury. 
Once,  after  I  had  given  him, a  sound  drubbing,  he  called  me  "  a 
base-born  puppy  1  a  beggar,  eating  the  crumbs  that  fell  from  the 
rich  man's  table." 

Foaming  with  rage — for  a  wound  to  my  pride  was  far  worse  in 
ray  estimation  than  any   personal    injury — I  demanded  wliat  ho 

12 


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2C6 


FLORA     L.VNDSAY. 


inoant  by  nwh  insullinj^  luijgnaf^c ;  and  he  sneered  in  my  face,  and 
told  ino  to  go  hoiiiu  mul  tusk  my  vntuntis  inotlier,  as  she,  doubtless, 
Mas  IjL'llcr  (HuililioU  to  ;;ivo  ino  tlic  infornratioii  1  desirt'^l.  And 
1  (lid  ask  my  miHher,  and  she  t(>!d  me  "  1  was  a,  fuulish  boy  to 
h(>t»l  sueli  nonsensi',  spoken  in  an^er  by  i\  lad  I  hud  just  thrashed  ; 
thai  Hill  -Martin  was  u  bad  Miow,  and  envious  of  my  beinj;  better 
oil'  than  liimsclf;  lliat  it'  1  listened  tt)  such  senseless  lies  about 
her,  it  would  make  her  n>iserable,  and  I  should  never  know  u 
happy  hour  mysell." 

I  felt  that  this  was  true.  I  loved  my  mother  better  than  any- 
thing in  the  world.  Jler  alFeelion  and  kindness  to  me  was  bound- 
less. She  always  weleomed  me  home  with  u  smiling  faee,  and  I 
never  received  a  blow  from  her  hand  in  my  life. 

My  mother  was  about  six-aud-thirty  years  of  age.  She  must 
liave  been  beautiful  in  youth,  for  ahe  was  still  very  pretty.  Her 
countenance  was  mild  and  gentle,  and  she  Wius  serupulo^sly  neat 
and  clean.  I  was  proud  of  my  inolhir.  1  saw  no  wonjau  in  her 
rank  that  could  be  compared  with  her;  and  any  insult  ofTered  to 
Ijer  1  rerieuted  with  my  whole  heart  and  .strei»gth.  I  was  too  young 
to  ask  of  her  an  explanation  of  the  fre(iueney  of  the  Squire's  visits* 
to  our  house  ;  and  wiiy,  when  he  eamc,  I  was  generally  dispatched 
on  some  errand  to  the  village;  and  hiul  the  real  explanation  been 
given,  I  would  not  have  believed  it. 

Mr.  (,'arlo3  had  no  family,  but  his  nephew  and  niece  came  twice 
a-ycar  to  spend  their  holidays  at  the  old  hall.  Master  Walter, 
who  was  his  heir,  was  a  line,  manly  fellow,  about  my  own  age  ;  and 
Miss  I'^lhi,  who  was  two  years  younger,  was  a  sweet,  fair  girl,  as 
beaulilul  as  she  was  amiable. 

I  had  just  completed  my  fourteenth  year,  and  was  tall  and  stout 
f)r  my  age.  Whenever  these  young  people  were  at  the  Hall,  I  was 
dressed  in  my  Iwst  clothes,  and  went  up  every  day  to  wait  upon 
them.  If  they  went  fishing,  I  carried  their  basket  and  rotls,  baited 
their  hooks,  and  found  out  the  best  places  for  their  sport,  and 
managetl  the  light  row-boat  if  they  wished  to  extend  their  rambles 
further  dowji  the  river. 

Often  we  left  boat  and  tackle,  and  scampered  through  the  groves 
and  meadows.  I  found  Miss  Ella  birds'  nests  and  wild  strawber- 
ries, and  we  used  to  laugh  and  chat  over  our  adventures  on  terms 
of  perfect  equality — making  a  feast  of  our  berries,  and  telling  fairy 
tales  and  ghost  stories.    Not  unfrcquently  we  frightened  ourselves 


game. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


261 


with  these  wild  legions,  and  ran  back  to  the  boat,  and  bright  river, 
and  the  gay  sunshine,  as  if  the  evil  spirits  we  had  conjured  up 
were  actually  after  us,  and  preparing  to  chase  us  through  the 
dark  wood.  And  then,  when  we  gained  the  boat,  we  would  stop 
and  pant,  and  laugh  at  our  own  fears. 

Walter  Carlos  wa.s  a  capital  shot,  and  very  fond  of  all  kinds  of 
fich!  sports.  Ilis  skill  with  n  gtin  made  mo  very  ambitious  to" 
excel  ua  a  sportsman.  Mr.  Carlos  was  very  particular  about  his 
game.  He  kept  several  gamekeepers,  and  was  very  severe  in  pun- 
ishing all  poachers  who  dared  to  trespass  on  his  guarded  rights — 
yet,  when  his  nephew  expressed  a  wish  that  I  might  accompany 
him  in  his  favorite  diversion,  to  my  utter  astonishment  and  delight, 
he  took  out  a  licence  for  me,  and  presented  me  with  a  handsome 
fowling-piece,  which  I  received  on  my  birthday  from  bis  own  hand. 

•'  This,  Noah,"  he  said,  "  you  may  consider  in  the  way  af  busi- 
ness, as  it  is  my  intention  to  bring  you  up  for  a  gamekeeper." 

Oh,  what  a  proud  day  that  was  to  me  I  With  what  delight  I 
handled  my  newly-acquired  treasure  !  How  earnestly  I  listenwl  to 
Joe,  the  head  gamekeeper's  directions  about  the  proper  use  of  it ! 
How  I  bragged  and  boa.stcHl  to  my  village  associates  of  the  game 
that  /  and  Master  Walter  had  bagged  in  those  sacretl  preserve^ 
that  they  dared  not  enter,  for  fear  of  those  mysterious  objects  of 
terror — man  traps  and  spring  guns ! 

"The  Guy — he  thinks  that  no  one  can  shoot  but  himself," 
snccretl  Bill  Martin,  as  he  turne<l  to  a  train  of  blackguards  that 
were  lounging  with  him  against  the  pales  of  the  porter's  lodge,  as 
I  returnetl  one  evening  to  my  mother's  with  my  gun  over  my 
shoulder,  and  a  hare  and  brace  of  pheasants  in  my  hand.  "  I 
guess  there  be  others  who  can  shoot  hares  and  pheasants,  without 
the  Squire's  leave,  as  well  as  he.  He  fancies  himself  quite  a  gem- 
man,  with  that  fine  gun  over  his  shoulder,  and  the  Squire's  licenco 
in  his  pocket." 

Tlfese  insulting  remarks  stirred  up  the  evil  passions  in  my  breast. 
My  gun  was  unloaded,  but  1  pointed  it  at  my  tormentor,  and  told 

him  to  be  quiet,  or  I'd  shoot  him  like  a  dog.     "  Shoot  and  be • 

to  you !"  says  he,  "  it's  a  bettw  death  than  the  gallows,  and  that's 
what  you'll  come  to." 

This  speech  was  followed  by  a  roar  of  coarse  laughter  from  his 
companions. 

"  I  shall  live  to  soe  you  hung  first !"  I  cried,  lowering  the  gun, 


•tki 


268 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


while  a  sort  of  prophetic  vision  of  the  far-off  future  swam  before 
my  sight.  "  The  company  you  keep,  and  the  bad  language  you 
use,  are  certain  indications  of  the  road  on  which  you  are  travelling. 
I  have  too  much  self-respect  to  associate  with  a  blackguard  liko 
you." 

"  Dirty  pride  and  self-conceit  should  be  the  words  you  ought  to 
use,"  quoth  the  impudent  fellow.  "  My  comrades  are  poor,  bnt 
they  arn't  base-born  sneaks  like  you." 

With  one  blow  I  levelled  him  to  the  ground.  Just  at  that 
moment  the  Squire  rode  up,  and  prevented  further  mischief.  That 
Bill  Martin  was  horn  to  be  my  evil  genius.  I  wished  him  dead  a 
hundred  times  a  day,  and  the  thought  familiarized  my  mind  to  tho 
deed.  He  was  the  haunting  fiend,  ever  at  my  side  to  teuipt  me  to 
commit  sin. 


CHAPTER  XLII. 

Vi  FIRST  LOVE. 


Mere  boy  as  I  was,  my  heart  had  been  deeply  moved  by  the 
beauty  of  Miss  Ella  Carlos.  I  often  waited  upon  her  all  day  with- 
out feeling  the  least  fatigue  ;  and  at  night  my  dreams  were  full  of 
her.  I  don't  think  that  she  was  wholly  insensible  to  my  devotion, 
but  it  seemed  a  matter  of  amusement  and  curiosity  to  her. 

I  remember,  one  day — oh,  how  should  I  forget  it !  for  it  formed 
a  strong  linb  of  evil  in  my  unhappy  destiny — that  I  was  sitting  on  the 
bank  o*"  the  river,  making  a  cross-bow  for  my  pretty  young  lady  ' 
out  of  a  tough  piece  of  ash — for  she  wanted  to  play  at  shooting  at 
a  mark,  and  she  and  Master  Walter  were  sitting  beside  mo  watcli- 
ing  the  progress  of  my  work — when  tho  latter  said — 

'•  I  wish  I  were  two  years  older. " 

"  Why  do  you  wish  that,  Watty?"  asked  Ella. 

"  Because  papa  says  I  am  to  go  into  the  army  at  sixteen,  and  I 
do  so  long  to  be  a  soldier." 

"But  you  might  be  killed." 

"  And  I  might  live  to  be  a  great  man  like  the  Duke  of  Welling- 
ton," said  he,  with  boyish  enthusiasm.  "  So,  Madame  Ella,  set  the 
one  chance  against  the  other." 

"  But  it  requires  more  than  mere  courage,  Walter,  to  make  a 


FLORA    LYNDIAT. 


269 


great  man  like  him.  I  have  heard  papa  say — and  he  fought  under 
him  in  Spain — that  it  takes  a  century  to  produce  a  Wellington." 

"  i  think  papa  did  the  Duke  great  injustice,"  said  Walter. 
"  There  is  not  one  of  the  heroes  of  antiquity  to  compare  with  him. 
Julius  Ciesar  was  not  a  greater  conqueror  than  Xapoleon,  and 
Wellington  beat  him.  But  great  as  the  Duke  is,  Miss  Ella,  ho 
was  a  boy  once — a  soldier  of  fortune,  as  1  shall  be — and  who 
knows  but  that  I  may  win  as  great  a  name.'' 

"  It  is  a  good  thing  to  have  a  fine  conceit  of  one's-sclf,"  said  the 
provoking  girl.  "  An4  what  would  you  like  to  be,  Noah  ?"  she 
cried,  with  a  playful  smile,  and  turning  her  bright,  blue  eyes  on 
me.  "  An  0' ivcr  Cromwell  at  least,  as  he  was  a  man  of  the  peo- 
ple ;  and  you  seem  to  have  as  good  a  headpiece  as  my  valiant 
brother." 

"  I  wish,"  I  said  with  a  sigh,  which  I  could  not  repress,  "  that  I 
were  a  gentleman." 

"  Perhaps  you  are  as  near  obtaining  your  wish  as  Walter  is. 
And  why,  Noah,  do  you  wish  to  be  a  gentleman?  You  are  much 
better  off,  if  you  only  knew  it,  as  you  are." 

I  shook  my  head. 

"  Come  answer  me.  Noah  ;   I  want  to  know." 

"  Indeed,  Miss  Eila,  I  cannot." 

"  You  can,  and  shall." 

I  looked  earnestly  into  her  beautiful  face. 

«  Oh,  Wiaa  Ella,  can  you  ask  that  V 

"  Why  not?    Your  reasons,  Mr.  Noah — your  reasons." 

My  eyes  sought  the  ground.  I  felt  the  color  glow  upon  my 
cheeks,  and  I  answered  in  a  voice  trembling  with  emotion--*'  lio- 
causc  if  I  were  a  gentleman,  Miss  Ella,  I  might  then  hope  that 
jou  would  love  me,  and  that  I  might  one  day  ask  you  for  my 
wife." 

The  young  thing  sprang  from  the  ground  as  if  stung  by  a  viper, 
her  eyes  flashing,  and  her  cheek  crimson  with  passion.  "  Yon  uro 
an  impertinent,  vulgar  fellow,"  she  cried.  '*You  dare  to  think  of 
marrying  a  lady  1  You,  who  have  not  even  fortune  to  atone  for 
your  plelwian  name  and  low  origin !  Never  pn^umo  to  speak  i'> 
me  again !" 

She  swept  from  us  in  high  dudgeon.  Iler  brother  laughed  at 
what  he  termod  a  funny  joke.  I  was  silent,  and  for  ever.  The 
sabjcct  was  the  most  important  to  me  in  life.    That  flash  of  dis- 


870 


FLORA    LYNDBAY. 


dain  from  the  proud,  bright  eye — that  hanghtj,  sarcastic  curve  of 
her  beautiful  youog  lip,  had  annihilated  it.  Yet  her  words  awoke 
a  strange  idea  in  my  mind,  that  finally  lured  me  onward  to  destruc- 
tion. They  led  me  to  imagine  that  the  want  of  fortune  was  the 
only  real  obstacle  between  me  and  the  attainment  of  my  presump- 
tuous hopes — that  common  as  my  name  was,  I  only  required  the 
magic  of  gold  to  ennoble  it ;  and  proud  as  she  was,  if  I  were  but 
rich,  even  she  would  condescend  to  listen  to  me,  and  become  mine. 

From  that  hour  Miss  Ella  walked  aud  talked  with  me  no  more. 
I  saw  her  daily  at  the  hall,  bat  she  never  cast  upon  me  a  passing 
glance ;  or  if  chance  threw  us  in  the  same  path,  she  always  turned 
disdainfully  away.  The  distance  which  every  hour  widened  be- 
tween us  only  served  to  increase  the  passion  that  consumed  me.  I 
tried  tx)  feel  indifferent  to  her  scorn — in  fact,  to  hate  her,  if  I  could ; 
but  my  efforts  in  both  casijs  proved  abortive. 

Shortly  after  this  conversation,  Mr.  Walter  joined  the  army,  and 
Miss  Ella  accompanied  her  mother  to  France  to  finish  her  educa- 
tion ;  and  /  was  placed  under  tlic  head  gamekeeper,  to  learn  the 
art  of  detecting  snares  aud  catching  poachers. 

I  filled  the  post  osaigned  me  with  such  credit  to  myself,  and  so 
completely  to  the  satisfaction  of  my  master,  that  after  a  few  years, 
on  the  death  of  old  Joe  Hunter,  I  was  promoted  to  his  p'-^cc,  with 
a  salary  of  one  hundred  pounds  per  annum,  and  the  use  ojT  this  cot- 
tage and  farm  rent  free. 

I  now  fancied  myself  an  independent  man,  and  my  old  crave  for 
being  a  gentleman  returned  with  double  force ;  and  though  I  had 
not  seen  Miss  Ella  for  years,  my  boyish  attachment  wps  by  no 
means  diminished  by  absence.  I  determined  to  devote  all  my  spare 
time  to  acquiring  a  knowledge;  of  books.  Our  curate  whs  a  poor 
and  studious  w.ttn ;  to  him  I  m"de  known  my  craving  for  mental 
iuiprovcnicnt ;  and  as  my  mean.^  were  more  than  adetiuato  to  my 
simple  wants,  and  I  never  indulgctl  in  low  vices,  I  could  afford  to 
pay  him  well  for  instructing  me  in  (lie  arts  an<l  silences. 

If  Mr.  Abel  found  me  a  willing  pupil,  I  found  in  him  a  kind, 
intellectual  instructor.  Woiild-  to  God  I  had  made  him  a  confidant 
of  the  state  of  my  mind,  an«l  given  him  the  true  motives  which 
made  me  so  eager  to  improve  myself.  But  from  boyhood  I  was 
silent  and  reserved,  and  preferred  keeping  my  thoughts  and  opin- 
ior.s  to  myself.  I  never  could  share  the  product  of  my  broin  with 
another  ;  and  this  unsociable  sccrotivcness,  though  it  invested  mo 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


271 


trltli  an  outward  decency  of  deportment,  fostered  a  mental  hypo- 
crisy and  self-doceptlon  fur  more  dtstructive  to  true  godliness  than 
the  most  reckless  vivacity. 

Mr.  Abel  entertained  a  hij?h  respect  for  me — I  was  the  model 
young  man  ofHhe  parish— and  wherever  Ijc  went,  ho  spoke  in  terms 
of  approbation  of  my  talent^,  my  integrity,  my  filial  duty  fb  my 
mother,  and  the  liiuciable  cflHirts  I  was  making  to  raise  niy?c]f  in 
society.  This  was  all  very  gratifying  to  my  vanity.  I  firmly 
believed  in  the  verity  of  my  own  gootlness,  and  considered  the  good 
curate  onlv  (Fid  me  justice. 

Our  conversation  often  turned  on  religions  matters,  but  my  ortho- 
doxy wa"  o  correct,  roy  outward  conduct  so  uninipciichable,  that 
n>y  litU  lO  piety  of  a  superior  cast  m^i^c  not  the  kiiist  item  in  the 
long  catalogue  of  my  virtues.  And  the  heart  all  this  tinu' — that 
veiled  and  guanled  heart,  whose  motions  none  ever  looked  upon  or 
suspected — wn  " 'ank  moral  desert — a  spot  in  which  every  cor- 
rupt weed  had  ample  space  to  spread  and  grow  without  let  or  hin- 
drance. 

As  long  as  "Mr.  Abel  remained  in  F ,  I  maintained  the  repu- 
tation I  •  t  J  v  <juired  ;  and  hmg  after  he  left  us,  I  was  a  regular 
church-goer,  aud  prosecuted  my  studios  boih  at  liomc  and  abroad. 
At  that  time  ray  por.'ional  appearance  was  greatly  in  my  favor  ;  and 
I  was  vain  of  my  natural  julvantages.  I  lived  to  dress  better, 
and  apjwar  as  if  I  belonge<l  to  a  higher  graae  thrn  my  village  as- 
sociates. Tl:is  could  not  be  done  without  involving  considerable 
expense.  I  kept  a  luuxlsome  horse,  and  carried  a  handt^onu^  gun  ;' 
.tnd  I  fluttentl  tnyself  tluit.  wh<n  dressed  in  my  green  velvet  shoot- 
ing jacket,  white  cords,  {o]>  IjooIs.  uinlwilh  my  hunting  cap  jdaced 
jauntily  on  my  head.  I  was  as  handsome  and  gintknmnly-looking  a 
young  fellow  as  <\mu\  Iw  found  in  tliat  part  <>\'  llie  country. 

I  had  just  cc  dieted  nfv  tweutv-tbird  veur  whojj  .Miss  Klla  made 
her  a[)pearance  once  more  at  the  hall.  She  was  no  longer  a  pretty 
child,  but  ha<1  grorvn  into  a  lovely  and  accomplished  woman.  A 
fwling  of  (l(\spair.  mingle*!  with  my  atlmiralion  wljen  slie  rode  past 
me  in  tiie  park,  accompauieil  by  a  young  gentkinan  and  an  elderly 
lady. 

The  gentlenum  was  a  youugor  brotlicr,  ivho  afterwards  died  in 
India;  tlie  lady  was  her  mother.  Miss  Kiia  was  nminited  on  a 
tf>irited  horse,  on  which  shti  sat  to  perloctiou — her  nobly-proport  ioned 


€ 


272 


FLORA    LVN'DSAVi 


figure  displayed  to  tbo  best  advantage  by  ha:  clegaat  and  closely* 
fitting  dark-blue  riding  habit. 

After  they  passed  me,  the  elderly  lady  bent  forward  from  her 
horse  and  said  to  her  daughter,  loud  enough  for  me  to  hear, 
"  Elhi,  who  is  that  hamlsonte  young  man — he  looks  iike  a  gcntio 
man.* 

"  Far  from  that,  mamma,"  returned  the  young  lady,  saucily,  "  it 
is  my  uncle's  gamekceptu*,  Noah  Cotton — the  lad  I  once  told  you 
about.  lie  is  grown  yeiy  handsome.  But  what  a  name  I  Noah  t" 
and  she  laughed — such  a  morry,  mocking  laugh  ;  "  it  is  enough  to 
drown  any  pretensions  to  good  looks." 

''How  came  you  to  know  the  man,  Ella?"  said  her  brother, 
gravely.  ,^ 

*  "  Oh,  George,  you  kixow  Uwlc  is  not  over-particoiui .  An  aris- 
tocrat ^\ith  regard  to  his  game,  and  any  infriagement  on  his  rights 
on  that  Store ;  but  a  perfect  tk)ftocrat  in  his  familiarity  with  his 
tlomestics  and  tenants.  JFc  used  to  send  for  tliis  Noah  to  play  with 
«e during  tlio holidays.  Jle  was  a  beautiful,  curly-headed  lad ;  and 
wo  treated  him  M'ith  too  much  coiulescen&ion,  but  it  was  Uncle's 
fault ;  he  should  have  known  that  the  hoy  was  no  companion  for 
young  people  in  our  mnk.  This  saucy,  spoilt  boy,  had  not  only 
the  impudence  to  fall  in  love  with  n;2,  but  to  tell  me  so  to  my 
face." 

"  Tlic  scoundrel !"  muttered  the  young  man. 

"  Of  course  I  never  spoke  to  him  again.  I  coraplained  to  Uncle, 
and  he  only  treatetl  it  as  a  joke.  It  is  a  pity,"  she  added,  in  a  less 
boastful  and  luiughty  tone,  "Ihut  he  is  not  a  gentleman  ;  he  is  a 
handsome,  noble-looking  j)easant." 

They  rode  out  of  hearing,  leaving  mo  rootwl  to  the  spot.  The 
sudden  turn  in  the  path  had  hidden  me  "from  their  observation,  anci 
brought  them  and  the  theme  of  their  conversation  too  terribly 
near. 

MisB  Klla's  description  of  me  cnt  into  my  soul,  and  stung  me  likn 
an  adder.  I  ])ressed  n>y  hand  upon  my  burning  brain — upon  my 
aching  heart.  I  tried  to  tear  her  image  from  bc^th..  Vain  e(S)rt ! 
Passion  had  done  its  work  effectually.  Tlie  limning  of  years  couki 
not  be  efTuced  by  the  desecrating  power  of  mortifietl  vanity. 

I  saw  her  many  times  during  that  visit  to  the  Hall ;  but,  iK'yond 
raising  mjr  cap  respectfully  when  she  passed  mo,  no  word  of  recog- 
nition ever  escaped  from  my  lips.    Ouco  or  twice,  I  thought,  from 


FLORA     LYNDSAY. 


313 


her  manner,  and  the  earnest  way  in  which  she  n^arded  me,  that 
she  almost  wished  me  to  spculc  to  her. 

Her  horse  ran  away  with  her  one  morning  in  the  park,  and  she 
lost  her  seat,  but  received  no  serious  injury.  I  caught  the  animal, 
and  helped  l^r  to  remount.  Our  eyes  met,  and  she  blushed  very 
deeply,  and  her  hand  trembled  as  it  lay  for  a  moment  in  mine. 
Trifling  as  these  circumstances  were,  they  gave  birth,  at  the  time, 
to  the  most  extravagant  hopes,  which  filled  me  with  a  sort  of 
ecstasy.  I  almost  fancied  that  she  loved  me — she,  the  proud,  high- 
born,  beautiful  lady.  Alas!  I  knew  little  of  the  coquetry  of 
woman's  nature,  or  that  a  girl  of  her  rank  and  fortune  would  con- 
descend  to  notice  a  poor  lad  like  me,  to  gratify  her  own  vanity  and 
love  of  admiration. 

« 

I  went  home  intoxicated  with  delight ;  and  that  night  I  dreamt 
I  found  a  vast  sum  of  gold  beneath  a  pine-tree  in  one  of  the  pluulo- 
tions,  and  that  Ella  Carlos  had  cunscnted  to  become  my  iMfc.  My 
vision  of  happinesi^t  was,  however,  doomed  to  fade.  The  next  day 
Mrs.  Carl  as  and  her  son  and  daughter  left  the  Hall,  and  I  did  not 
see  her  again  before  she  went. 

For  weeks  after  their  departure  I  mopil  about  in  a  listless,  dis- 
pirited manner,  loathing  my  menial  occu.  ition,  and  despising  tho 
low  origin  which  formed  an  insurmountable  barrier  between  me  and 
the  beautiful  mistress  of  my  heart. 

I  was  soon  roused  from  these  unprofitable  ^peculatious,  and  called 
to  take  an  active  part  in  the  common  duties  of  my  every-day  life. 
Some  des|)eradoes  had  broken  into  the  preserves,  and  currie«l  off  a 
large  quantity  of  game.  Mr.  Carlos  vowed  vengeance  on  Um*  depre- 
datora,  and  reprimanded  me  severely  for  my  neglect. 

This  galled  my  pride  and  made  me  return  with  double  dnigence 
to  my  business.  After  watching  for  a  few  nights,  I  ha'i  'jvery 
reason  to  believe  that  the  poaclier  was  no  uther  than  my  jld  oneniy 
IVill  Martin,  who,  absent  for  several  years  iii  Anwrica,  had  suddenly 
reappeared  in  the  village,  and  was  constuiitly  seen  at  the  public 
house,  in  the  company  of  a  set  of  wortlikiss,  desperate  elmnuiters. 
lie  had  sunk  into  the  low  blarkiruurd,  and  manifested  his  hatred  to 
me  by  insulting  me  on  all  occasions.  My  dislike  to  this  rulTiuM  was 
too  deep  to  find  vent  in  words.  I  was  always  brooding  over  hla 
injurious  conduct,  and  planning  schemes  of  vengeance. 

One  day,  in  going  through  the  plantations,  I  picked  up  a  large, 
American  bowie-knife,  with  Bill  Martina  name  engraved  upon  tba 

12* 


274 


FLORA  LYNDSAV. 


handle.    This  I  carefully  Uiid  by,  hoping  that  it  might  prove  ns(s 
ful  on  some  future  occasion. 

Meanwhile,  the  game  was  nightly  thinned  ;  and  the  caution  and 
dexterity  with  which  the  poachers  acted,  baffled  me  and  my  col- 
leagues in  all  our  endeavors  to  surprise  them  in  the  act. 


CHAPTER  XLIII. 

TKMPTATIOX. 

"  That  Bill  Martin  is  a  desperate  ruffian,"  said  Mr.  Carlos  to 
me  one  morning,  after  we  were  returning  to  the  Hull  through  the 
park.  I  hud  been  watching  in  the  preserves  all  night,  but  nothing 
had  transpired,  beyond  the  discovery  of  the  bowie-knife,  that  could 
lead  to  the  detection  of  the  marauders.  "  I  have  no  doubt  that  he 
and  his  gtng  are  the  party  concerned  in  these  nightly  depredations ; 
but  we  want  suflTicicit  proof  for  their  apprehension." 

"(live  Martin  rope  enough,  and  he'll  hang  himself,"  I  replied. 
"  He  is  fierce  and  counigeous,  but  boastful  and  foolhanly.  In 
order  to  astonish  his  companions,  he'll  commit  some  daring  out- 
rage, and  betray  himself.  I  will  rela.x  a  little  from  our  vigilance, 
to  give  him  more  confidence,  and  put  him  off  his  guard.  It  won't 
Im}  long,  depend  upon  it,  before  we  have  him  safely  lodged  in  —' 
jtil." 

"  Noah,  my  boy,  you  are  a  trump  I"  cried  the  Squire,  throwing 
his  am)  familiarly  across  my  shoulders.  "  It's  a  pity  such  talents 
On  you  pos.soss  sliouhl  be  wastwl  in  watching  hares  and  partridge." 

I  felt  ujy  heart  l>eat,  and  my  cheeks  glow,  and  I  thought  of  Miss 
Klla.  **  Wtuii  he  going,"  I  a^kcd  myself,  "  to  place  mo  in  a  more 
resiKH'tuble  Kituation  ?" 

But  no  ;  the  generous  fit  passed  away,  and  he  broke  into  a  hurty 
laugh. 

"  D— — c,  Noah,  I  had  half  a  mind  to  buy  a  commission  for  you, 
and  make  a  soldier  of  you.  Hut  you  had  better  remain  as  you  ure. 
That  confoundinl  name  of  Noah  Cotton  would  spoil  all.  ^Vho 
ever  hoard  »>f  a  gentleman  bturiiig  such  a  cognomen  ?  It  is  worse 
than  Ijord  Byronis." 

"  AmuM  Cottle !  Phcebus,  what  a  nann^ !  What  could  tenpt 
your  mother  to  cull  you  after  He  old  patriarchal  navigator  ?  Ha ! 
hal  it  was  a  queer  dod^." 


FLORA    LYXDSAT. 


275 


•'  It  was  ray  father's  uarae,"  said  I,  reddening ;  for,  besides  being 
bitterly  mortified  and  disappointed,  I  by  no  means  relished  the  joke ; 
*'  and  my  father,  though  poor,  was  an  honest  man !" 

"  Both  cases  nUher  doubtful,"  said  the  Squire,  laugliing  to  him- 
self. Then,  slapping  me  pretty  sharply  on  the  shoulder,  he  said — 
"  And  what,  my  lad,  do  you  know  of  your  father  ?" 

"  Nothing,  personally,  to  the  best  of  my  knowledge.  I  never 
caw  him  ;  but  my  mother  has  told  me  a  good  deal  about  him." 

"  Humph !"  said  Mr.  Carloo.  "  Did  she  tell  you  how  much  sho 
was  attaclied  to  Mister  Noah  Cotton,  and  how  grieved  she  was  to 
part  with  such  a  tender,  loving  husband  ?" 

*'  Sir,  Mr.  Carlos — do  you  mean  to  insult  me  by  speaking  in 
Uiis  jeering  way  of  ray  parents  ?" 

"  Not  in  the  least,  Noah  ;  so  don't  look  at  me  with  that  fierce 
black  eye  as  if  you  took  me  for  a  hare  or  a  pheasant,  or,  worse  than 
either,  for  Bill  Martin.  You  ought  to  kiiow  that  I  am  your  friend 
— have  been  your  friend  from  a  child  ;  and  if  you  continue  to  con- 
duct yourself  as  you  have  done,  will  befriend  you  for  life." 

I  looked,  I  am  sure,  very  foolish,  for  I  felt  his  words  rankling  in 
my  heart ;  and  though  I  affected  to  laugh,  I  strode  on  by  his  side 
in  silence — the  chain  of  obligations  he  had  wouftd  around  me,  and 
r'y  dependence  upon  him  tightening  about  me,  and  galling  me  at 
every  step.  He  certainly  saw  that  I  was  offended  ;  for,  stopping 
at  the  gate  that  led  from  the  park  to  the  Hall-gardens,  and  where 
our  roads  separated,  he  said,  rather  abruptly — 

"  You  arc  angry  with  me,  Noah  ?" 

"  W.th  you,  sir ?— that  woild  be  folly." 

**  It  would,  indtxHl.     I  see  you  can't  bear  a  joke." 

"  Not  very  \vell." 

"  You  don't  take  after  your  father,  then  ;  for  he  loves  a  joko 
dearly." 

*'  Is  my  father  alive  ?"  I  cried,  eagerly. 

"  Of  course  he  is." 

"  My  mother  don't  know  this." 

"As  well  OA  I  know  it.  "Women  have  all  their. secrets.  They 
don't  tell  us  all  they  know.  One  oC  these  days  you'll  hear  more 
about  this  mysterious  father,  depend  upon  it." 

I  lonired  to  ask  him  all  he  knew  upon  the  subject,  but  we  were 
not  on  termi  of  familiarity  to  warrant  such  a  liberty.     He  was  my 


276 


FLOIU    I.YNDSAT. 


master,  and  it  was  lib  part  to  speak — mine  to  listea  Presently  Ite 
turned  the  subject  into  another  channel  altogether. 

♦'  By-the-bye,  Noah,"  he  said,  "  I  am  going  to-day  to .     I 

have  'a  large  sum  of  money  to  receive  from-  my  lawyer — the  pay- 
ment for  Crawford's  farm,  which  I  sold  a  few  months  ago.  Tho 
land  was  bod,  and  I  was  offered  a  good  price  fur  it — n^re,  indeed, 
than  I  thought  it  was  worth,  ilorucr  adviseil  me  to  sell,  and  I 
sold  it  accordingly.     It  may  be  late  when  I  return  to-morrow 

uight,  which  I  sliall  do  by  the  F coach.    It  will  put  me  down 

on  the  other  sido  of  the  park,  and  I  shall  have  to  walk  home  by 
the  plantations  and  through  the  great  avenue ;  aiMl  though  tlio 
distance  is  but  a  mile,  to  tell  you  the  tntth,  I  should  not  like  to 
meet  Bill  Martin  and  his  gang  after  nightfall  in  such  a  lonely 
place,  especially  with  a  large  sum  of  money  on  my  i)erson — at 
least  from  £500  to  £1000.  I  wish  you  would  bring  your  gun, 
and  wait  for  the  coming  up  of  the  coach,  at  the  second  gate  which 
leads  into  that  lonely  plantation.     It  will  bo  in  by  ten  o'clock." 

"'fliat  I  will,  with  the  greatest  pleasure,"  I  cried,  and  all  my 
petty  rcscntnH?nt  vanished.  "  I  am  not  afraid  of  twenty  Bill 
JSIartins.     I  only  wish  I  may  have  the  iuck  to  meet  with  him." 

"  I  shall  feel  iwrfectly  safe  with  yoti,  Noah.  But — hallo  !  I  for- 
got ;  is  not  to-morrow  the  givat  cricket-mutch  at  S ?  and  you 

nmst  be  there." 

"  Tt  is,"  said  I.  "  But  there  is  no  positive  necessity  for  my  being 
there.  It  is  a  goo<l  thing  to  be  missed  sometimes.  They'll  know 
the  value  of  a  gootl  player  another  timej' 

•'  You  are  their  best  hand  ?" 

"  Yes  ;  I  know  thai,  and  they  know  it  too.  However,  for  this 
time,  they  must  try  and  win  the  match  without  me.  Gocxl  nwr- 
ning,  Mr.  Carlos  ;  I  will  not  fail  to  meet  you  as  you  desire." 

Heentoi'ed  the  magniliccnt  lawn  that  spread  in  front  of  his  noble 
residence  ;  and  I,  whistling  the  tune  of  a  hunting-song,  turneil 
my  steps  through  the  plantations  towards  home. 

( rOil  knows !  at  that  moment,  I  had  not  the  most  distant  idea  of 
raising  my  hand  against  his  life. 

I  walked  on,  or  rather,  saimtcred — for  the  weather  was  exces- 
sively warm  for  September — in  a  sort  of  dreamy  state.  1'he 
thought  uppermost  in  my  mind  was  a  vague  wish  to  know  how 
much  money  Mr.  Ciirlos  expected  to  receive  for  the  sale  of  CraW' 
ford's  farm. 


m(l 

w| 

insl 

8UI 

inj 
po<] 
der 
will 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


sn 


The  land  was  not  very  good  ;  bat  the  house  and  bams  were  com- 
modious, and  in  excellent  repair.  It  was  honestly  worth  £4,000. 
Will  he  receive  this  larjje  sum  in  one  payment — or  will  it  be  by 
instalments  of  eight  hundred  or  a  thousand  pounds  ?  Tlie  latter 
sum  was  the  most  probable.  *'  lie  is  foolish,"  I  conthiucd,  pursu- 
ing my  train  of  thought,  "  to  travel  with  a  sum  like  that  in  hi.i 
pocket,  and  by  a  common  conveyance  too.  It  is  tempting  Provi- 
dence. But  he  is  a  rash  man  who  never  listens  to  any  advice.  He 
will  bo  murdered  one  of  these  days  if  he  docs  not  take  care." 

A  thousand  pounds  is  an  immense  sum  in  the  estimation  of  a 

.  poor  man.    The  busy  fiend  whispered  in  my  ear,  "  IIow  much 

could  be  done  with  that  sum  if  yon  could  only  command  it !    It 

would  buy  a  commission  in  the  army,  and  make  a  gentleman  of  you 

at  once."    But  then  "  people  would  suspect  how  I  came  by  it." 

"It  would  enable  you  to  emigrate  to  America  or  Australia,  ami 
become  the  purchu^  r  of  a  tract  of  land,  that  might  make  your 
fortune." 

"  Yes  !  and  then  i  would  drop  the  odious  name  of  Noah  Cotton, 
return  with  a  fine  coat,  and  a  noble  alias,  and  seek  out  and  marry 
my  adored  Ella  Carlos." 

After  indulging  for  some  time  in  this  species  of  castle-building, 
I  l)cgan  seriously  to  consider  whether  it  would  be  such  a  difTirult 
matter  to  obtain  the  money,  and  realize  the  latter  of  these  dreams. 

I  did  not  wish  to  inflict  any  personal  injury  on  Mr.  Carlos,  who 
had  always  been  very  kind  to  me  and  my  mother  ;  yet  he  was  a 
person  for  whom  I  felt  little  respect,  and  I  often  rcproachtnl  my- 
self for  my  want  of  gratitude  to  our  mutual  benefactor. 

He  had  a  fine  person,  and  a  frank,  generous  bmring,  but  his 
manners  were  coarse  and  fuiniliur,  and  his  lungunge  iinniorul,  and 
beneath  the  dignity  of  a  gentleman.  I  had  frequently  seen  him 
into.xicated ;  and  while  in  that  state,  I  had  often  assisted  him 
from  his  carriage,  and  jruidod  his  tottering  steps  up  tiie  broad  stone 
steps  that  led  to  his  mansion. 

I  had  often  remarked  to  my  mother,  when  such  an  event  had 
filled  mo  with  deep  disgust,  "  Had  Mr.  Carlos  been  a  poor  man,  he 
would  have  been  a  great  blackgiiard."  * 

And  she  would  grow  very  red  and  angry — more  so  than  I  thought 
the  occasion  required,  and  say — "  My  son,  it  is  not  for  the  like  of 
us  to  censure  the  conduct  of  our  betters.  It  is  very  unbecoming, 
especially  in  you,  ou  whom  the  Squire  has  conferred  so  many  favors 


278 


nx)IU    LYNDSAY. 


Yon  oujj;ht  to  shut  your  eyes  and  oars,  and  lot  on" to  no  one  what 
you  see  and  hear." 

I  did  ncitljcr  the  one  nor  the  other.  I  was  keenly  alive  to  the 
low  pursuits  of  my  superior,  whom  I  only  conaiiliTcd  aa  such  as  far 
as  his  rank  and  wealth  were  concerned,  for  hilherto  I  htui  led  a 
more  moral  life  than  he  had.  I  neither  gambled,  nor  drank,  nor 
swore ;  had  never  seduced  a  poor  girl  to  her  ruin,  and  then  boastc<l 
of  my  guilt.  If  the  truth  must  be  spoken,  I  reganlwl  the  S(|uirc 
with  feelings  of  indifference,  which  amountc«I  almost  to  contempt, 
which  all  sense  of  post  obligations  could  not  overcome. 

Oh,  if  these  spoilt  children  of  fortune  did  but  know  the  light  in 
which  such  deeds  are  regarded  by  the  poor,  and  the  evils  which 
arise  fronj  their  bad  example,  they  would  either  strive  to  deserve 
their  respect,  or  at  least  strive  to  keep  their  immoralities  out  of 
sight ! 

It  is,  perhaps,  no  excuse  for  my  crime  to  say,  that  had  Mr.  Car- 
los been  a  go«xl  man,  I  should  never  have  l)ccn  a  bad  one,  or  have 
been  tempted  under  any  chrcumstances  to  have  taken  his  life;  yet 
I  do  feel  certain,  that  if  that  had  been  the  case,  he  would  have  been 
safe,  and  I  had  never  fallen.  I  should  have  tried  to  show  my  gratf- 
tude  to  him,  by  deserving  his  esteem :  as  it  was,  I  felt  that  his 
goo«l  opinion  of  me  was  of  little  worth — that  he  could  not  prize 
good  qualities  in  me  to  which  himself  was  a  stranger.  The  only  tie 
which  bound  me  to  him  was  one  of  self-interest.  He  paid  me  well, 
and  for  the  sake  of  that  pay  I  had,  up  to  this  period,  been  a  faith- 
ful servant. 

But  what  has  all  this  to  do  with  my  temptation  and  fall  ?  Much 
— oh,  how  much — the  conviction  of  the  worthlessness  of  my  mas- 
tor's  character,  ami  the  little  loss  his  death  would  be  to  the  com- 
munity at  large,  drowned  all  remorseful  feelings  on  his  bchulf,  and 
hastened  me  far  on  the  road  to  crime. 

After  having  once  indulged  the  idea  that  I  could  easily  rob  him, 
and  make  myself  master  of  the  projxjrty  he  had  on  his  person,  I 
could  not  again  banish  it  from  my  mind.  I  quickened  my  pace, 
and  recommenced  whistling  a  gay  tune;  but  the  stave  suddenly 
ceased,  and  in  fancy  I  was  confronting  Mr.  Carlos  by  that  lonely 
avenue-gate.  I  rubbed  my  eyes  to  shut  out  the  horrid  vision,  and 
begun  slashing  the  thistles  that  grew  by  the  roadside  with  my  cane. 
Then  I  thought  I  saw  him  pale  and  weltering  in  his  blood  at  my 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


279 


foet,  and  I  hcara  Bill  Martin's  fiondish  laugh,  and  his  prophecy 
rcapt'cliiig  the  gullows. 

I  stoppi>d  in  the  middle  of  the  roud,  and  looked  hard  at  the  dust. 
What  a  terrible  idea  hml  that  one  thought  of  Bill  Martin's  con- 
jured  up — the  opportunity  to  gratify  my  long-treasured  hatred — 
to  avenge  myself  on  my  enemy  was  within  my  grasp ! 

That  knife — I  walked  quickly  on — I  nearly  ran,  driven  forward 
by  the  excitement  under  which  I  labored.  Yes — that  knife,  with 
his  name  upon  the  handle.  If  the  deed  were  done  adroitly,  and 
with  that  knife,  aud  I  could  but  contrive  to  send  him  to  the  spot 
a  few  minutes  after  the  murder  had  been  committed,  he  would  be 
the  convicted  felon— I  the  possessor  of  wealth  that  might  ultimately 
pave  the  way  to  fortune. 

I  was  now  near  the  village,  and  I  saw  a  bosom  friend  of  Mar- 
tin's, with  a  suspicious-looking  dog  lounging  nt  his  heels.  I  knew 
that  anything  said  to  Adam  Haws  would  be  sure  to  be  retailed  to 
his  comrades,  for  with  Bill  Martin  I  never  held  the  least  communi- 
cation. 


CHAPTER    XLIV. 

THE     PL  O  T. 


"  A  FINE  day.  Mister  Game-keeper,"  quoth  Adum  1  "  Prime 
weather  for  shooting !     Have  you  much  company  at  the  Hall  ?" 

*•  No  one  at  present.  The  Squire  expects  a  largo  party  the 
beginning  of  the  week." 

"  Is  there  much  game  this  season  ?"  asked  the  poacher,  very 
innocently. 

"There  vnts,"  1  replied,  rather  fiercely.  "But  these  rascally 
poachers  are  making  it  scarce.  I  only  wish  I  hud  the  ringleader  of 
the  gang  within  the  range  of  this  gun." 

"  How  savage  you  arc.  Cotton  !  A  soft,  easy  name  that  for  a 
hard,  cruel  fellow.  Why  not  live  and  let  live  ?  What  is  it  to  you 
if  a  poor  fellow  dines  now  and  then  off  the  leg  of  a  hare,  or  the 
wing  of  a  pheasant  ?  It  don't  take  one  penny  out  of  your  pocket. 
What  right  have  these  rich  men  to  lay  an  embargo  upon  the  beasts 
of  the  field,  and  the  fowls  of  the  air  ?  Aye,  upon  the  very  tish  that 
swims  in  the  stream,  which  God  gave  for  the  use  of  all.  Tyrants  1 
— they  have  not  enough  of  the  good  things  of  this  world,  but  they 


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280 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


must  rob  the  poor  of  their  natural  rights.  I  only  wish  I  had  them 
under  the  range  of  that,  which  a  poor  man  dare  not  carry  without 
a  liqencc,  in  a  free  land.  But  tliere  will  come  a  day," — and  he 
ground  his  teeth, — "  pray  God  that  it  may  come  soon,  when  these 
cursed  game  laws  and  their  proud  makers,  shall  be  crushed  under 
our  feet." 

"  That  will  not  be  in  your  day — nor  yet  in  mine,  Adam  Hows. 
No,  not  if  we  both  lived  to  the  age  of  your  venerable  namesake  of 
apple-celebrity.  Like  him — you  seem  to  have  a  hankering  for  for- 
bidden fruit ;  and  taste  it  too,  I  apprdiend,  if  I  may  judge  by  that 
lurcher  at  your  heels.  You  are  wrong  to  keep  that  dog.  It  has  a 
suspicious  look." 

"  I  am  not  acquainted  with  his  private  tastes,"  said  Adam,  pat- 
ting the  snaky-headed  brute.  "  Like  his  betters,  he  may  relish  a 
hare,  now  and  then,  but  I  never  saw  him  eat  one.  Fox,  my  boy ! 
Are  you  fond  of  game  ? — the  keept'  thinks  you  are.  Fie,  fox,  fie. 
It  is  as  bad  to  look  like  a  thief,  a?  to  be  one." 

"  You  had  better  put  that  doj;  away,  Adam.  If  the  Squire  sees 
him,  he  will  order  him  to  be  shot,"  , 

"  Damn  the  'Squire  !  "Who  cares  for  the  'Squire.  He  poaches 
on  other  preserves  besides  his  own.     Hay,  Mister  Cotton?" 

The  color  flushed  my  face — I  scarce  knew  why.  "  I  don't  un- 
derstand your  joke." 

"  Oh,  no,  of  course  not.  You  are  such  an  innocent  fellow.  But 
there  pre  others  who  do.  Are  you  going  to  the  cricket  match  to- 
morrow ?    The  fellows  of  S have  challenged  our  fellows  to  a 

grand  set-to  on  the  common — 'tis  famous  ground.    The  men  of 

S play  well — but  our  bullies  can  beat  them.     I  am  told  that 

vou  are  the  flash  mau  of  the  F club  ?" 

"  I  love  the  sport — it  is  a  finey  manly,  old  English  game  ;  I  should 
like  to  go  very  well,  and  they  ex^iect  me  ;  but  I  have  an  engago« 
nient  elsewhere." 

"  You'll  have  to  put  it  off." 

*'  Impossible." 

"But  the  honor  of  the  club." 

"  Must  yield  to  duty.  I  promised  to  meet  Mr.  Carlos  at  the 
second  avenue  gate  to-morrow  night,  at  eleven  o'clock." 

"  Damme  haa  he  turned  thief-taker  ?  Does  he  mean  to  catch  the 
poachers  himself?  Well,  if  that  is  not  a  queer  dodge  for  a  gentle- 
man." 


f  r1 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


281 


"  He  would  not  be  a  bad  hand,"  said  I,  laughing.    "  No,  no. 

The  coach  puts  him  down  there  on  his  return  from  I ,  and  I 

promised  to  see  him  safe  home." 

"  Safe  home !  Why,  man,  'tis  only  a  mile  from  the  Hall.  Is  be 
afraid  of  ghosts?" 

"  Not  at  all,"  I  said,  dropping  my  voice.  "  No  one  who  knows 
Squire  Carlos,  could  ever  take  him  for  a  coward.  But  there  are  a 
great  many  suspicious  characters  in  the  neighborhood,  and  the  Squire 
returns  with  a  large  sum  of  money  on  his  person,  xle  was  afraid 
that  ho  might  be  robbed  in  that  lonely  place,  and  he  asked  mc,  as 
a  particular  favor,  to  meet  him  there  with  my  gun." 

"A  large  sum  of  money  did  you  say?"  and  the  poacher  drew 
nearer  and  gazed  upon  me  with  an  eager  and  excited  stare.  "  Does 
he  often  travel  abroad  with  such  sums  about  him?" 

"  Not  often.  This  is  a  particular  case — it  is  the  price  of  the 
land  he  sold  lately,  Crawford's  farm,  and  he  wants  the  money  to 
make  another  purchase.  Perhaps  he  will  have  with  him  a  couple 
of  thousand  pounds." 

"  You  don't  say — and  you  are  to  meet  him  at  the  second  avenue 
2;'dte  at  eleven  o'clock  ?" 

"  Bo  I  promised.  But  don't,  there's  a  good  fellow,  mention  it  to 
any  one.  I  would  not  for  the  world  be  thought  to  blab  my  master's 
secrets.  He  would  never  forgive  me,  if  it  came  to  his  ears.  To 
tell  you  the  truth,  I  don't  much  like  the  job.     I  would  rather  have 

a  jolly  day  with  the  club  at  S .    I  am  sure  we  should  win  the 

match." 

"  I  thought  the  coach  came  in  at  tenT"  said  Adam,  still  dream- 
ing over  the  vision  of  gold. 

"  Not  on  market  nights ;  it  is  always  late.  Eleven  was  the  hour 
he  appointed." 

*'  Oh,  of  course,  he  knows  best.  And  such  a  large  sum  of  money ! 
I  would  not  venture  on  the  road  with  twenty  shiners  in  my  pocket. 
But  two  thousand !  the  man's  a  fool.  Good  day,  Noah — don't  raise 
a  bad  report  against  my  poor  dog.  You  know  the  old  proverb—'  Give 
a  dog  a  bad  name.'    Two  thousand  pounds — my  eye,  what  a  sum !" 

Away  trudged  the  poacher,  with  the  game-destroyer  at  his  hols. 
I  sat  down  upon  a  stile,  and  looked  after  him.  I  was  sure  of  my 
man. 

"  Go  your  ways  to  Bill  Martin,"  I  said.    '•  Tell  him  the  tale  I 


wm 


H 


. 


282 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


have  told  to  you,  and  between  us,  ^[r.  Carlos  has  small  chance  of 
sleeping  on  a  feather  bed  to-morrow  night." 

I  felt  certain  that  an  attempt  would  be  made  to  rob  Mr.  Carlos 
by  these  ruffians".    I  read  it  in  that  fellow's  eye.    "  I  would  bet  my 

life  that  neither  of  us  go  to  the  cricket  match  to-morrow  at  S . 

Bill  will  have  a  difiFerent  job  on  hand.  It  will  be  the  ball  and  not 
the  bat,  that  is  to  win  the  game  they  hope  to  play." 

I  had  only  to  be  at  the  place  at  the  right  hour,  and  with  a  dex- 
terous blow  stun,  without  killing  my  victim,  and  secure  the  prize  ; 
and  then  return  and  detect  the  ruffians  in  the  very  act ;  and  for  this 
purpose,  I  determined  to  secure  the  co-operation  of  another  game- 
keeper, who  might  accompany  me  to  the  avenue,  and  help  me  to 
Becure  the  villains.  T  was  so  elated  with  this  plan,  that  I  forgot 
my  own  share  of  the  guilt.  The  leaven  of  iniquity  that  I  had  in- 
troduced into  the  breast  of  another,  was  already  at  work,  and 
two  human  beings  were  subjected  to  the  same  temptation  to  which 
I  had  yielded. 

It  is  astonishing  how  a  fellowship  in  guilt  hardens  the  guilty. 
Men,  like  wolves,  are  often  great  cowards  alone  ;  but  give  them  a 
few  companions  ih  crime,  and  pusillanimity  is  instantly  converted 
into  ferocity.  The  coward  is  always  cruel ;  the  mean-spirited  mer- 
ciless. The  consciousness  that  two  of  my  fellow-men  premeditated 
committing  the  same  crime,  wonderfully  strengthened  me  in 
my  resolution  of  plunging  my  soul  into  the  abyss  of  guilt.  I  had 
another  passion  to  gratify,  which  had  rankled  for  years  in  my  breast, 
that  of  revenge.  A  wish  to  over-reach  and  disappoint  Bill  Martin 
was  a  stronger  incentive  to  this  deed  than  the  mere  lucre  of  gain. 
The  burning  hatred  I  had  cherished  from  boyhood  was  on  the  eve 
of  being  gratified.  I  should,  in  case  of  failure  on  my  part,  at  least 
secure  his  destruction. 

When  I  reached  home,  I  found  two  of  the  principaV members  of 
the  cricket  club,  both  respectable  merchants  in  the  village,  waiting 
to  see  me.  I  was  their  best  hand,  and  they  left  no  argument  un- 
urged,  in  order  to  induce  me  to  go.  I  took  them  separately  aside, 
and  confidentially  informed  them  of  my  reasons  for  staying  at  home. 
This  I  justly  thought  would  avert  all  suspicion  from  me  as  the 
leal  culprit.  Of  course  they  were  convinced  that  my  gohig  was  out 
of  the  question,  and  took  their  leave  with  regret. 

My  mother  was  not  very  well.  She  had  a  bad  head-ache,  and 
complained  of  being  very  nervous  (a  fine  word  she  had  picked  up 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


283 


from  the  parson's  wife),  and  we  passed  a  very  dull  evening  to- 
gether. 

I  had  never  before  shunned  my  mother's  eye ;  but  this  night  I 
could  not  look  steadily  at  her.  She  at  length  noticed  my  agitation, 
and  svsked  if  anything  had  gone  wrong  with  the  game. 

I  said,  "  Nothing  more  than  usual.  That  I  was  sorry  that  I 
could  not  go  to  the  match — that  I  was  afraid  our  men  would  be 
beaten  without  me — that  I  had  a  great  mind  to  send  the  second 
keeper,  George  >7orton,  who  was  a  brave,  honest  fellow,  to  meet 
my  master,  and  start  for  S the  next  day." 

"  You  must  do  no  such  thing,"  she  said,  sharply.  "  You  must 
meet  Mr.  Carlos,  as  you  promised  him,  yourself.  If  any  harm 
should  happen  to  the  Squire  through  your  neglect,  we  shall  lose 
the  best  friend  we  have  in  the  world.  You  must  not  think  of 
leaving  him  to  the  care  of  another.  He  will  be  justly  displeased, 
and  it  may  mar  your  fortune  for  life." 

"  In  what  way,  mother  ?"  I  said,  gloomily.  "  I  think  you  place 
too  much  importance  on  the  Squire's  good-will.  I  could  earn  my 
own  living,  if  I  were  out  oi  employ  to-morrow." 

My  mother  replied,  "that  I  was  proud  and  ungrateful — that  Mr. 
Carlos  had  raised  me  out  of  the  dirt,  and  I  ought  to  be  ready  to 
lay  down  my  life  to  serve  him."  "  > 

I  retorted.  She  grew  angry,  and  for  the  first  time  in  my  life, 
she  went  to  bed  without  kissing  and  bidding  me  good-night,  or 
wishing  that  God  might  bless  me. 

I  felt  the  omission  keenly.  It  seemed  as  if  my  good  angel  had 
forsaken  and  left  me  to  my  fate.  For  a  long  time  I  sat  brooding 
over  the  fire.  My  thoughts  were  full  of  sin.  I  went  to  the  cup- 
board where  my  mother  kept  a  few  simple  medicines  and  a  small 
bottle  of  brandy,  in  case  of  acc'  'icnts  or  sudden  illness.  I  hated 
ardent  spirHs,  and  seldom  took  anything  stronger  than  a  cup  of 
tea  or  milk,  or,  when  very  tired,  a  little  home-brewed  ale.  But 
this  night  I  took  a  large  glass  of  brandy — the  first  raw  liquor  I 
ever  drunk  in  my  life.  Stupificd  and  overpowered,  I  soon  found 
relief  from  torturing  thoughts  in  a  heavy,  stupid  sleep. 

Breakfast  was  on  the  table  when  I  unclosed  my  eyes.  The 
remains  of  the  brandy  were  replaced  in  the  cupboard,  and  my  poor 
mother  was  regarding  me  with  a  sad  countenance  and  tearful  eyes. 

"  You  were  ill,  Noah,  last  night  ?" 

"  I<had  a  confounded  head-ache." 


*     « 


284 


TLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"  And  you  did  not  tell  me." 

"  You  parted  with  me  in  anger,  mother.  I  felt  so  miserable! 
We  never  had  a  quarrel  before,  and  I  took  the  brandy  to  raise  my 
spirits.  It  had  a  contrary  effect.  It  made  me  drunk,  for  the  first 
time  in  my  life." 

"  I  hope  it  will  be  the  last." 

"  Yes ;  if  the  repetition  does  not  prove  more  agreeable.  My 
temples  throb — my  limbs  tremble — everything  is  distasteful.  Who 
could  feel  pleasure  in  a  vice  so  bestial  ?" 

"  Habit,  Noah,  reconciles  us  to  many  things  which  at  first 
awaken  only  aversion  and  disgust.  All  pleasure  which  has  its 
foundation  in  sin  must  end  in  pain  and  self-condemnation.  Drunk- 
enness is  one  of  those  vices  which  when  first  indulged  creates  the 
deepest  shame  and  humiliation ;  but  custom  renders  it  a  terrible 
necessity." 

My  mother  could  preach  well  against  any  vice  to  which  she  was 
not  particularly  inclined  herself.  I  never  saw  her  take  a  glass  of 
wine  or  spirits  in  my  life.  This  was  from  sheer  want  of  inclina- 
tion ;  all  strong  drinks  A'ere  disagreeable  to  her  taste. 

I  took  a  cup  of  tea,  and  after  immersing  my  head  in  cold  water, 
the  nausea  from  which  1  was  suffering  gradually  abated,  and  I  soon 
felt  well  again.  While  I  was  standing  at  the  open  window  I  saw 
Adam  Hows  and  Bill  Martin  pass  the  lodge.  They  were  in 
earnest  conversation.  I  called  to  Adam,  and  asked  him,  "  If  he 
were  going  to  see  the  cricket-mutch  ?" 

He  answered,  "  That  it  depended  upon  the  loan  of  a  horse. 
Harry  Barber  had  promised  them  his  ;  but  it  had  broken  pasture, 
and  they  were  going  in  search  of  it." 

I  did  not  believe  this  statement.  I  was  certain  that  it  was  in- 
tended for  a  blind.  I  told  Adam  that,  in  case  he  did  not  find  Barber's 
horse,  I  would  lend  him  mine.  He  was  profuse  of  thanks,  but  did 
not  accept  my  offer.     He  was  certain  of  finding  the  lost  animal  in 

time  :  he  was  going  to  drive  over  his  friend  to  S ,  and  my  mare 

did  not  go  in  harness.  I  took  no  notice  of  his  companion.  For 
many  months  wc  had  never  spoken  to  each  other — not  even  to  ex- 
change insults.  At  four  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  I  heard  that  they 
were  drinking  in  a  low  tavern  just  out  of  the  village.  If  I  did  not 
keep  my  appointment  with  Squire  Carlos,  I  felt  convinced  that 
they  would. 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


285 


CHAPTER  XLV. 


THE   MURDER. 


All  day  I  wa3  restless,  and  unable  to  settle  to  the  least  thing. 
My  mother  attributed  my  irritation  and  ill-humor  to  the  brandy  I 
had  drunk  on  the  preceding  evening.  As  the  night  drew  on,  I  was 
in  a  perfect  fever  of  excitement ;  yet  not  for  one  moment  did  1 
abandon  the  dreadful  project.  I  had  argued  myself  into  the  belief 
that  it  was  my  fate — that  I  was  compelled  by  an  inexorable  des- 
tiny to  murder  Mr.  Carlos.  I  was  to  meet  him  at  ten  o'clock — just 
one  hour  eaiier  than  the  time  I  had  named  to  Adam  Hows.  At 
eight  my  mother  went  to  bed,  complaining  of  indisposition.  I  was 
glad  of  this,  for  it  left  me  at  perfect  liberty  to  arrange  my  plans. 

I  dressed  myself  in  a  wagoner's  frock  and  hat,  in  order  to  con- 
ceal my  person  from  my  victim,  and  with  Bill  Martin's  bowie  knife 
in  the  breast  of  my  waistcoat,  and  a  large  knotted  bludgeon  in  my 
hand,  almost  a  fac-simile  of  one  often  carried  by  that  ruffian,  I 
sallied  into  the  road.  My  disguise  was  so  "complete,  that  few  with- 
out a  very  near  inspection  would  hv  vc  detected  the  counterfeit. 
Fortunately,  I  met  no  one  on  the  road  whom  I  knew,  and  reached 
the  second  gate  in  the  dark  avenue  v.luch  led  to  the  one  that  opened 
into  the  high-road,  just  ten  minutes  before  the  coach  drove  up.  I 
heard  the  bluff"  voice  of  the  coachman  speaking  to  the  horses.  I 
heard  Mr.  Carlos,  in  his  frank,  cheerful  tones  bid  the  coachman 
goodnight.  The  stage  rattled  on,  and  the  Squire's  measured 
step,  for  he  had  been  a  soldier  in  his  youth,  sounded  upon  the  hard 
gravel  path  that  led  from  the  avenue  to  the  plantation-gate,  by  the 
side  of  which  I  was  concealed,  behind  the  trunk  of  a  vast  oak  that 
cast  its  dense  shadows  across  the  road.  Above,  the  moon  was  shin- 
ing in  a  cloudless  sky. 

After  the  first  gate  which  opened  upon  the  road  had  swung  to 
after  him,  Mr.  Carlos  commenced  singing  a  favorite  hunting  song, 
perhaps  to  give  me  warning  of  his  approach,  or  to  ascertain  if  I 
had  been  true  to  my  word. 

Nervous  as  I  had  been  all  day,  I  was  now  calm  and  collected. 
I  had  come  there  determined  to  rob  him,  and  nothing  but  the  cer- 
tainty of  detection  could  have  induced  me  to  abandon  my  purpose. 

When  he  reached  the  gate,  he  called  out,  in  his  clear  voice, 
^  Noah — Noah  Cotton !  are  you  th^ro  ?" 


I' 


28ft 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


Receiving  no  answer,  he  opened  the  gate,  and  passed  through. 
As  he  turned  to  shut  it,  I  sprang  from  my  hiding-place,  and  with 
one  blow  successfully,  but  not  mortally  aimed,  1  felled  him  to  the 
ground.  Contrary  to  my  calculations,  he  stood  erect  for  a  moment, 
and  instead  of  falling  forward  against  the  gate,  he  reeled  back,  and 
fell  face  upwards,  to  the  earth.  Our  eyes  met — he  recognized  me 
in  a  moment.  To  save  his  life  now  was  to  forfeit  my  own,  and 
the  next  moment  I  plunged  the  bowie-knife  to  the  hilt  in  his  breast. 
He  gasped  out,  "  This  from  you,  Noah !  Poor  Elinor,  you  are 
terribly  avenged!" 

He  never  spoke  more.  I  hastily  searched  his  pockets,  and  drew 
from  his  bleeding  breast  a  large  pocket-book,  which  contained  the 
coveted  treasure.  I  then  flung  the  bloody  knife  with  which  I  had 
done  the  deed,  to  some  distance,  and  fled  from  the  spot,  taking  a 
near  cut  to  the  lodge  across  the  fields. 

I  entered  at  a  back  gate,  and  going  up  to  my  own  room,  I  care- 
fully washed  my  hands  and  face,  and  dressed  myself  in  the  clothes 
I  had  worn  during  the  day,  thrusting  the  wagoner's  frock  and  hat 
and  the  fatal  pocket-book  into  an  old  sack,  I  hastily  concealed  them 
in  a  heap  of  old  manure,  which  had  served  for  a  hot-bed  in  the  gar- 
0(in,  until  a  better  opportunity  occurred  of  eflectually  destroying 
them.  All  this  was  accomplished  in  an  almost  incredibly  short 
time ;  and  when  my  arrangements  were  completed,  I  once  more  had 
recourse  to  the  brandy-bottle,  but  took  good  care  this  time  not  to 
take  too  potent  a  dose.  I  then  shouldered  my  gun,  and  walked  to 
the  cottage  of  the  second  game-keeper,  which  lay  in  my  path,  and 
briefly  stating  my  reasons  for  calling  him  up,  I  aske^  him  to  accom- 
pany me  to  the  second  avenue  gate  to  meet  my  master. 

George  Norton  instantly  complied,  and  we  walked  together  to 
the  appointed  spot,  discussing  in  the  most  animated  manner,  as  we 
went  along,  the  probable  result  of  the  cricket  match  at  S . 

As  we  entered  the  first  plantation,  we  were  accosted  by  Bill  Mar- 
tin and  Adam  Haws.  Both  were  greatly  excited,  and  exclaimed  in 
a  breath — 

"  Mr.  Carlos  has  been  robbed  and  murdered  I  The  body  is  lying 
just  within  the  second  gate,  in  the  middle  of  the  path.  Come  with 
us  and  see  1" 

"  And  what  brings  you  here,  you  scoundrel !  at  this  hour  of 
night?"  I  cried,  suddenly,  throwing  myself  upon  Bill  Martin. 
'*  What  business  have  you  trespassing  in  these  preserves  ?    If  Mr. 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


267 


Carlos  13  murdered,  it  \s  you  and  your  accomplice  that  have  done 
the  deed.  It  is  not  pheasants  and  hares  that  you  came  here  to  shoot, 
as  the  muzzle  of  that  pistol,  sticking  out  of  your  pocket,  can 
prove." 

On  hearing  these  words  Adam  Haws  discharged  a  pistol  at  my 
head,  and  missing  his  aim,  threw  down  the  weapon  and  fled.  Bill 
Martin  struggled  desperately  in  my  grasp,  but  I  held  him  fast.  I 
wius  a  strong,  powerful  man,  and  he  was  enfeebled  by  constant  drunk- 
eness  and  debauchery.     1  held  him  like  fate. 

Norton  now  came  to  my  assistance,  and  we  secured  Martin's 
hands  with  my  silk  pocket  handkerchief.  I  remained  with  my  grasp 
upon  his  .collar,  while  Norton  ran  back  to  the  village  to  fetch  tho 
constables. 

It  w;is  one  of  the  most  awful  moments  in  my  life,  while  I  stood 
alone  in  that  gloomy  grove  confronting  my  victim.  He  neither 
spoke  nor  trembled.  The  unhappy  man  seemed  astonished  and 
bewildered  at  what  had  befallen  him.  All  was  so  still  around  U3 
that  I  heard  his  heart  beat  distinctly. 

We  remained  in  this  painful  and  constrained  silence  for  some 
time.  At  hvst  he  said,  in  a  subdued  voice,  "  Noah  Cotton,  I  am 
not  guilty.     I  never  murdered  him." 

"  Perhaps  not.  Your  comrade  in  crime  may  have  saved  you  tho 
trouble." 

"  Nor  him  cither.  The  deed  was  done  before  wc  reached  tho 
spot." 

"  What  brought  you  there?"  I  said,  abruptly. 

"  The  hints  you  t  hrew  out  for  our  destruction  ;"  and  his  eye  once 
more  flashed  with  its  accustomed  boldness.  "  You  acted  as  decoy- 
duck,  and  your  superior  cunning  has  triumphed.  In  order  to  gratify 
your  old  hatred  to  me,  you  have  killed  your  benefactor." 

The  moon  was  at  full,  but  the  trees  cast  too  deep  a  shade  upon 
the  spot  we  occupied  to  enable  him  to  see  my  face.  I  was,  how- 
ever, taken  by  surprise,  and  gave  a  slight  start.  He  felt  it,  and 
laughed  bitterly. 

"  We  are  a  pair  of  damned  scoundrels !"  he  cried ;  "  but  you  are 
the  Avorst,  and  you  know  it.  I,  of  course,  must  hang  for  this ;  for 
you  have  laid  your  plans  too  well  to  allow  me  a  loop-hole  to  escape. 
Now,  Noah  Cotton,  for  once  be  generous.  I  know  I  have  treated 
you  confoundedly  ill — that  I  am  a  very  bad  fellow,  and  richly 
deserve  the  gallows ;  but  I  am  very  young  to  die — to  die  for  a 


pi 


288 


FI-ORA    LTNDSAT. 


I 


crime  I  did  not  actually  commit.  1  have  a  widowed  mother,  an 
orphan  sister  to  support,  who  love  me,  and  will  be  broken-hearted 
at  my  death — for  their  sakcs,  give  me  a  chance  of  making  my  escape. 
I  will  leave  the  country  directly,  and  never  return  to  it  again  to 
trouble  you  more.  Have  mercy  upon  me!  For  Christ's  sake, 
have  mercy  upon  me  1" 

My  heart  was  moved.  I  was  almost  tempted  to  grant  his  prayer. 
But  I  dared  not  trust  him.  I  knew  that  my  own  safety  entirely 
depended  on  his  destruction. 

"  William  Martin,"  I  said,  very  calmly,  "your  attempt  to  charge 
nie  with  this  crime  is  a  miserable  subterfuge.  What  interest  had  I 
to  kill  Mr.  tjarlos  ?  Did  not  my  living  depend  upon  him  ?  The 
folly  of  the  man  who  killed  the  goose  that  laid  the  golden  eggs 
would  be  wisdom  compared  with  such  a  deed.  Mr.  Carlos  was  of 
more  value  to  me  living  than  dead." 

'*  That  is  true,"  he  said,  thoughtfully.  "  I  may  have  wronged 
you.  It  is  a  strange,  inexplicable  piece  of  business."  Then  he 
muttered  to  himself,  "  *  The  wages  of  sin  is  death.'  It  is  useless  to 
ask  mercy  from  him.  He  would  not  save  my  life  if  he  could.  Oh, 
my  mother  ! — my  poor,  poor  mother !" 

Hardened  as  I  thought  this  ruffian  had  been  for  years,  the  big, 
bright  drops  coursed  each  other  down  his  sunburnt  cheeks ;  his 
large  chest  heaved  convulsively,  and  loud  sobs  awoke  the  lone  echoes 
of  the  wood. 

I  could  endure  his  agony  no  longer.  "  Martin,"  I  said,  in  a  low 
voice — for  the  agitation  that  shook  my  whole  frame  nearly  deprived 
me  of  the  power  of  utterance — "  behave  more  like  a  man ;  were  you 
innocent  man,  you  could  not  be  affected  in  this  strange  way." 

"  By ,  I  am  not  innocent !    Who  said  I  was  ?    But  I  again 

repeat,  I  did  not  kill  him." 

"Then  Adam  did?" 

"  No,  no — it  was  his  first  attempt  at  murder."  He  stopped 
short.    He  had  committed  himself. 

"  Why,  Bill,  your  own  words  condemn  you." 

"  Don't  use  them  against  us.  I  am  mad.  I  don't  know  what  I 
say." 

"  Hush !  I  hear  steps  approaching.  Be  quiet  for  one  moment, 
while  I  untie  your  hands,  and  I  will  give  you  a  last  chance  for 
your  life." 

"  Your  frozen  heart  has  thawed  too  late,"  he  cried,  with  a  hoi- 


FLORA    LYXnSAY. 


289 


low  groau.    "  The  constables  arc  already  here,  and  I  am  a  dead 
man." 

He  was  riglit ;  Norton,  with  the  constables  and  a  large  body  of 
men,  now  burst  through  the  trees.  I  gladly  consigned  the  pris- 
oner to  their  charge,  while  I  proceeded  with  the  rest  of  the  party  to 
the  spot  where  the  nnn-der  had  been  committed.  I  knew  that  it 
would  awaken  suspicion  for  nic  to  remain  behind  ;  I  therefore 
placed  myself  at  the  head  of  them  ;  but  I  would  have  given  worlds 
to  have  remained  behind.  A  H;\v  miiuites  brought  us  to  the  fatal 
gate. 

We  gathered  round  the  body  in  silenee.  Horror  was  depicted 
on  every  countenance.  Some,  who  had  known  the  Squire  for  years, 
shed  tears — I  could  not ;  but  I  gladly  buried  my  face  in  my  liand- 
kerchief,  to  shut  out  the  dreadful  speclacle.  The  moon,  peering 
dqjvn  between  the  branches  of  the  trees,  looked  full  in  the  dead  man's 
face.  Those  glassy,  upturned  eyes  chilled  my  heart  to  stone  with 
their  fixed,  icy  stare. 

Oh  I  it  is  terrible  to  see  a  man  so  full  of  life  and  health  but  yes- 
terday, look  thus! 

"  Is  he  quite  dead  ?"  said  George  Norton.  "  My  poor,  dear  mas- 
ter ! — my  good,  generous  master  I  Noah,  lend  a  hand  to  raise  him 
up." 

With  a  deep  groan  I  seconded  his  efforts,  and  the  head  of  the 
murdered  man  rested  upon  my  knees,  as  I  crouched  beside  him  on 
the  ground.  A  viper  Was  gnawing  at  my  heart.  I  would  have 
given  my  chance  of  an  eternity  of  bliss,  which  I  possessed  not.many 
hours  ago  as  man's  only  true  inheritance,  to  have  recalled  the  trans- 
actions of  that  dreadful  night, 

"  See,  here  is  a  wound  in  his  breast,"  I  cried.  "  He  has  not 
been  shot,  but  stabbed  with  a  long  sharp  dirk  or  knife.  He  must 
have  been  taken  unawares,  for  he  seems  to  have  made  no  effort  to 
defend  himself." 

"  Here  is  his  hat,"  cried  another.  "  The  back  of  it  is  all  bat- 
tered and  crushed  in.  He  has  been  knocked  down  and  then  stab- 
bed.    Oh,  that  Martin — that  infernal  villain  I" 

whenever  I  heard  Martin  reproached  as  the  murderer,  I  fancied 
"that  those  dead  eyes  of  my  master  looked  into  my  soul  with  u 
mournful  scorn.  Yet  I  lacked  the  moral  courage  to  say,  "  I  am 
the  man." 

We  formed  a  litter  of  boughs,  and  carried  the  body  up  to  tho 


290 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


If 


Hull.  Wo  lifid  not  proeccclcd  many  stops  on  our  sad  journey  Iwjroro 
Norton  stumbled  over  somethings  in  the  path.  It  wad  the  bloody 
knifo. 

"  Here  is  something  that  will  give  a  clue  to  the  mystery.  By 
Jove  !  Bill  Martin's  American  knife.  He  was  showing  this  wi^k- 
ed-lookiiig  blade,  and  bragging  about  it  the  other  night  at  the 
White  Horse.  Murder  will  out.  If  evidence  were  wanted  of  hii^ 
guilt,  this  knife  would  hang  him.  Faugh!  the  blood  is  still  wet 
upon  the  blade." 

The  knife  passed  from  hand  to  hand,  and  to  mine  among  the  rest, 
I  did  not  see  the  blood.  It  appeared  to  me  red-hot — to  glow  and 
flicker  with  the  flames  of  hell. 

It  was  the  di\wn  of  day  when  we  reached  the  Hall  with  our 
melancholy  burthen.  The  fatal  news  had  travelled  there  before 
lis.  Half  the  inhabitants  of  the  village  were  collected  on  the  la\njp. 
The  old  servants  were  standing  on  the  steps  to  receive  the  body  of 
their  master.  As  wc  drew  ucax,  cries  and  groans  arose  on  every 
side.  _ 

"  This  is  a  bad  job  for  you.  Noah,"  said  the  old  butler — "  for  us 
all ;  but  esjwcially  for  you^    He  was  your  best  friend." 

"  It  is  a  loss  to  the  whole  country,"  I  cried,  mournfully,  shaking 
my  head. 

"And  Adam  Hows  is  off  with  the  money?"  said  the  steward, 
with  a  sharp  eager  face. 

"  So  we  suppose.  I\[artin  has  been  searched,  bui  there  is  none 
in  his  possession.     I  hope  the  other  rascal  v>'ill  be  taken." 

"  Come  with  us,  Noah,  into  the  kitchen,"  cried  several  of  the 
servants  in  a  brealh,  "and  tell  us  all  about  it.  They  say  it  was. 
you  who  discovered  the  murder,,  and  took  the  villain  at  the  risk  of 
your  life.  Come  in,  and  take  a  glass  of  hot  stuff,  and  give  us  all 
the  particulars.'* 

And  I  had  to  endure  a  fresh  species  of  torture  in  recapitulating 
all  the  circumstances  that  I  dared  reveal  of  that  revolting  act — to 
listen  to,  and  join  in  all  their  comments,  doubts  and  surmises,  and 
answered  all  the  agonizing  questions  suggested  by  curiosity  or  com- 
passion. I  was  beginning  to  feel  hardened  to  the  painful  task,  and 
answered  their  eager  inquiries  without  changii^  countenance,  or 
betraying  more  than  a  decent  emotioa  oa  the  melancboly  occasion- 


FLORA    LTXDSAT. 


291 


CHAPTER   XLVI. 


MY  MOTHER. 


I  WAS  relieved  from  my  embarrassing  situation  by  a  message  from 
my  mother.    She  was  ill,  and  wished  to  sec  me,  begging  me  tc  .© 
turn  home  without  a  moment's  delay. 

"  Ah,  poor  woman !  This  is  a  sad  judgment,  a  heavy  blow  to 
her.  She  must  feel  this  bad  enough,"  said  one  of  the  old  servants. 
•'  Yes,  yes,  Noah,  lose  no  time  in  going  home  £o  comfort  your 
mother." 

I  gazed  from  one  to  another  in  blank  astonishment.  They  shoofc 
their  heads  significantly.  I  hurried  away  without  asking  or  com- 
prehending what  they  meant. 

As  I  walked  rapidly  home,  I  pondered  over  their  strange  <  jn- 
duct.  Beyond  my  losing  my  situation  of  game-keeper  and  porter 
to  the  lodge,  I  could  ivs  .ee  in  what  way  the  death  of  Mr.  Carlos 
should  so  terrihly  affect  my  mother,  without  she  suspected  that  I 
was  his  murdirer.  Guilt  is  naturally  timid  ;  but  my  plans  had 
been  laid  with  such  caution  and  secresy,  and  carried  out  so  well, 
that  it  was  almost  next  to  an  impossibility  for  her  to  suspect  a 
thing  in  itself  so  monstrously  improbable. 

The  murder  had  been  an  impulsive,  not  a  premeditated  act. 
Four-and-twenty  hours  ago,  I  would  have  shot  the  man  who  could 
have  thought  me  capable  of  perpetrating  such  a  deed.  How  little 
we  know  of  the  spirit  of  which  we  are  made !  Christ  knew  it  well 
when  he  composed  that  clause  of  his  matchless  prayer,  "  Ijcad  us 
not  into  temptation." 

The  clocks  in  the  village  were  striking  eight  when  I  entered  the 
lodge.  My  mother  was  sitting  in  her  easy  chair,  supported  by  pil- 
lows. Her  face  was  death  pale,  and  she  had  been  crying  violently. 
Two  women,  our  nearest  neighbors,  were  standing  beside  her, 
bathing  her  wrists  and  temples  with  hartshorn. 

"Oh,  Noe,"  exclaimed  Mrs.  Jones,  "  I'm  glad  thee  be  come  to 
thy  mother.  She  hath  been  in  fits  ever  since  she  heard  the 
iJreadful  news." 

"  We  could  not  persuade  her  that  you  were  safe,"  said  Mrs. 
Smith.    "  She  will  be  content  when  she  sees  you  herself." 


I 

1 


292 


FLORA    LYND8AT. 


"  Mother" — and  I  went  up  to  hei'  and  kissed  her  rigid  brow — 
•*  are  you  better  now  ?" 

She  took  my  hand  and  clasped  it  tightly  between  her  own,  but 
made  no  reply.  Her  face  became  convulsed,  the  tears  5owed  over 
her  cheeks  like  rain,  and  she  fainted  in  my  arms. 

"  She  is  dying!"  screamed  both  women.  . .  i« 

"  She  will  be  better  presently,"  I  said.  "  Open  the  window — 
give  me  a  glass  of  water !  There — there,  she  is  coming  to !  Speak 
to  me,  dear  mother !" 

"  Is  it  true,  Noah  ?"  she  gasped  out,  but  broke  down  several 
times  before  she  could  makejier  meaning  plain.  "Is  he — is  tho 
Squire  dead  ? — murdered  ?" 

"  Too  true,  mother  !  I  have  just  helped  to  carry  the  body  up  to 
the  Hall." 

"  Oh,  oh !"  she  groaned,  rocking  hereelf  to  and  fro  in  a  strange 
agony  ;  "  I  hoped  it  had  been  false." 

"  It  is  a  shocking  piece  of  business — but  why  should  it  affect  you 
in  this  terrible  way  ?" 

"  That's  what  I  say,"  cried  Mrs.  Jones.  "  It  do  seem  so  strange 
to  us  that  she  should  tuke  on  in  this  here  way  for  a  mere  stranger." 

"  Don't  ask  nie  any  questions,  Noah,"  said  my  mother,  in  a  low, 
firm  voice.  "  I  am  better  now.  The  sight  of  you  has  revived  me ; 
and  these  kind  neighbors  may  return  home." 

"j\tten  o'clock  the  magistrates  meet  at  the  ]\rarket  Hall  to 
examine  tl)C  prisoners,"  I  said  ;  "  and  I  must  be  there  to  make  a 
deposition  of  what  I  know.     I  can  stay  with  you  till  then." 

*'0h,  Noe!  thee  must  tell  as  all  about  it!"  said  IMrs.  Smith, 
who  wsis  dying  with  curiosity.     "  How  did  it  come  about?" 

I  was  not  prepared  for  this  fresh  agony  ;  but  I  saw  that  tliere 
was  no  getting  rid  of  our  troublesome  visitors  without  satisfying 
their  insatiable  greed  for  news ;  and  I  went  through  the  dreadful 
task  with  more  nerve  than  I  expected.  My  mother  listened  to  tlic 
recital  with  breathless  interest,  and  the  women  clung  to  me  with 
open  eyes  and  mouth,  as  if  their  very  life  depended  upon  my 
words,  often  interrupting  me  with  uncouth  exclamations  of  surprise 
and  horror.  At  length  all  Avas  told  that  I  could  tell.  My  mother 
again  broke  into  passionate  tears. 

"  Poor  Mrs.  Martin !"  she  sobbed,  "  how  dreadful  it  must  be  ta 
her.    I  pity  her  from  my  very  soul !" 

I  had  never  given  Martin's  unfortunate  mother  a  single  thought. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


293 


I  was  not  naturally  cruel,  and  this  planted  a  fresh  arrow  in  my 
heart. 

"  It  is  about  eight  years  ago  that  she  lost  her  husband,"  said 
neighbor  Smith.  "  lie  died  from  the  bite  of  a  mad  dog.  He  was 
the  Squire's  gamekeeper  then.  Little  Sally  was  not  born  until  five 
montlis  after  her  father's  death.  I  don't  know  how  the  widow  has 
coutrive<l  to  scratch  along,  and  keep  out  of  the  workhouse.  But 
she  was  always  a  hard-working  woman.  She  had  no  friend  like 
the  Squire,  to  tak»  her  by  the  hand  and  give  her  son  a  genteel  edu- 
cation. She  did  get  along,  however,  and  sent  that  Bill  to  Mr.  Bul- 
len's  school ;  but  she  half  starved  herself  to  do  it — and  what  good  ? 
He  has  been  a  world  of  trouble  to  her,  and  almost  broke  her  heart 
before  he  run  off  to  'Meriky.  This  fresh  misfortune  will  go  nigh  to 
kill  her  outright." 

"  And  was  it  to  add  to  this  poor  devoted  creature's  sorrows,"  I 
asked  myself,  "  that  I  was  prepared  to  give  false  evidence  against 
her  son  ?"  For  well  I  knew,  that  his  life  depended  upon  that  evi- 
dence. 

For  Martin  I  felt  no  pity.  His  death  never  filled  me  with  re- 
morse like  the  murder  of  the  Squire.  He  was  born  for  the  gallows, 
I  had  only  forestalled  him  in  the  deed  that  would  send  him  to  the 
grave.  He  had  sought  the  spot  with  the  intention  to  rob  and  kill. 
I  had  no  doubts  on  that  head  ;  and  I  persuaded  myself  that  he 
had  richly  merited  the  fate  that  awaited  him.  But  the  grief  of  his 
unhappy  mother  awakened  a  pang  in  my  breast  that  was  not  so 
easily  assuaged. 

The  women  at  length  took  their  leave,  and  I  was  alone  with  my 
mother.  For  some  minutes  she  remained  silent,  her  hands  pressed 
tightly  over  her  breast,  and  her  tear-swollen  eyes  fixed  mournfully 
on  the  ground. 

"  Noah,"  she  said  at  length,  slowly  raising  her  head,  and  looking 
me  earnestly  in  the  face,  "do  you  think  that  the  family  would  allow 
me  to  look  at  the  corpse  ?" 

I  actually  started  with  horror.  I  felt  the  blood  recede  from  my 
cheeks,  and  a  cold  chill  creep  from  my  hair  downwards. 

"  Good  God,  mother !  what  should  make  you  wish  to  see  him  ? 
He  is  a  frightful  spectacle  I — so  frightful  that  I  would  not  look  at 
him  again  for  worlds  !" 

"  Oh,"  groaned  my  mother,  "  it  is  hard  to  part  '-rom  bim  for 
ever,  without  one  last  look !"  .       '         ^ 


I.. 


, 


204 


FLORA    LYNDSAY 


"  Mother,  mother !"  I  cried,  vihWe  a  horrid  suspicion  darted 
through  my  brain,  "what  is  the  meaning  of  this  strange  conduct, 
and  still  stranger  words  ?  In  the  name  of  Heaven !  what  was 
Squire  Carlos  to  you  ?" 

"  Noah,  he  was  your  father !"  returned  my  mother,  slowly  and 
solemnly.    "  I  need  not  tell  you  what  he  was  to  me." 

Had  she  stabbed  me  with  a  red-hot  knife,  the  eflfQct  would  have 
been  less  painful. 

"  My  father  I"  I  cried,  with  a  yell  of  agony,  as  I  sunk  down, 
stunned  with  horror,  at  her  feet.  "Mother! — mother!  for  my 
sake — for  your  own  sake,  recall  those  dreadful  words !" 

Some  minutes  elapsed  before  I  again  awoke  to  the  consciousness 
of  my  terrible  guilt.  My  crime  appeared  to  me  in  a  new  aspect — 
an  aspect  that  froze  my  soul,  and  iced  the  warm  stream  of  my 
young  blood  with  despair.  I  had  been  excited — agitated — almost 
maddened  with  the  certainty  of  being  a  murderer ;  but  there  was 
something  of  human  passion  in  those  tumultuous  feelings.  But 
the  certainty  that  I  was  not  only  a  murderer,  but  a  parricide — had 
killed  my  own  father  for  the  sake  of  a  few  hundred  pounds,  which 
I  now  knew  that  I  could  never  enjoy — chilled  me  into  a  stupid, 
hardened  apathy.  There  could  be  no  forgiveness  for  a  crime  like 
mine,  neither  in  this  world — neither  in  the  world  to  come. 

I  could  have  cursed  ray  wretched  mother  for  having  so  long  con- 
cealed from  me  an  important  fact,  which,  if  known,  had  saved  the 
life  of  her  worthless  paramour.  Her  silence  might  have  been  the 
effect  of  shame.  But  no — when  I  recalled  the  frequency  of  Mr. 
Carlos'  visits,  his  uniform  kindjess  to  me,  the  very  last  conversa- 
tion I  held  with  h'ra,  and  the  dark  hints  that  from  time  to  time 
Bill  Martin  had  so  insulting^ly  thrown  ovit,  it  convincal  me  that  she 
had  all  along  been  living  with  him  on  terms  of  the  most  abandoned 
intimacy,  and  that  her  crime  had  been  the  parent  of  my  own. 
Yet,  in  spite  of  these  bitter  recriminations,  when  I  raised  my  eyes 
to  her,  and  met  her  sad,  pleading,  tearful  glance,  all  my  love  for 
her  returned  ;  and  clasping  her  knees,  as  I  still  sat  upon  the  ground 
at  her  feet,  I  said,  "  Mother,  why  did  you  keep  this  guilty  secret 
from  me  for  so  many  years?  I  should  have  felt  and  acted  very 
differently  towards  that  unhappy  man,  if  I  had  known  that  he  was 
my  father." 

♦'  Noah,  it  is  hard  to  acknowledge  one's  sin  to  one's  own  child. 


FT.ORA    LYNDSAY. 


295 


it  IS  a  sin,  however,  that  I  have  been  bitterly  punished  for  com- 
mitting/' 

"  But  you  still  continued  to  five  on  those  terms  with  him  ?" 

"  Alsis,  Noah,  I  loved  him  !" 

She  threw  her  apron  over  her  head,  and  sobbed  as-  if  her  heart 
would  burst. 

"  I  will  show  yoH,  mother,  how  one  crime  produces  another,"  I 
was  about  to  say,  when  a  loud  rnp  at  the  door  recalled  my  self- 
possession,  and  I  was  summbned  to  attend  the  sitting  of  the  magis- 
trates, and  tell  all  I  knew  about  the  murder. 


CHAPTER  XLVIL 


A  1-AST   LOOK    AT    OLD    FRIENDS. 


I  MADE  my  deposition  minutely  and  circumstantially,  from  the 
time  of  my  couvereation  with  Adam  Hows  until  the  time  when, 
uccompanied  by  George  Norton,  we  encountered  him  and  Bill 
Martin  in  the  plantations,  and  took  the  hitter  prisoner.  My  state- 
ment was  so  clear,  so  plausible,  so  perfectly  muttcr-of-fuct,  that  this 
Lideoua  lie  was  received  by  wise  and  well-educated  men  as  God's 
truth.  I  heard  myself  spoken  of  as  a  sober,  excellent  young  man, 
well  worthy  of  the  confidence  and  affection  of  the  Squire,  and 
extremely  grateful  for  tlie  many  favors  he  had  bestowed  upon  me; 
while  the  character  that  Martin  bore,  and  hi^^  previous  pursuits, 
were  enough  to  condcnm  him,  independent  of  the  startling  evidence 
ihat  T,  and  others  from  among  his  own  wild  convpanioTis,  had  given 
against  him.  A  conversation  that  one  of  these  men  had  accidcntr 
ally  heard  between  him  and  Adam  IIows,  proclaiming  their  inten- 
tion to  rob  and  murder  Mr.  Carlos,  was,  imleed,  more  conclusive 
of  their  guilt  than  my  own  account,  though  that  was  sufiicient  to 
have  hung  him  twice  over. 

Bill  kept  his  eye  fixed  on  me  during  the  exiimrnation.  I  met  it 
with  a  degree  of  outward  caliimess  ;  but  it  thrilled  me  to  the  soul, 
fend  has  hamited  me  ever  since.  lie  made  no  attempt  at  vindica- 
tion. He  said  that  the  evidence  brought  against  him  was  circum- 
stantially correct,  yet,  for  all  that,  neither  he  nor  his  accomplice  had 
actually  murdered  the  Squire,  and  that  God,  who  looked  deeper 
than  man,  knew  that  what  ho  said  was  true. 


296 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


Of  course  no  one  listened  to  such  an  absurd  statement.  But,  to 
cut  this  painfcl  part  of  my  story  short — for  it  is  agony  to  dwell 
upon  it — he  was  tried,  sentenced,  and  condemned,  and  finally  exe- 
cuted at •    I  saw  him  hung. 

Yes,  Reader,  you  raay  well  start  back  from  the  page  in  horror. 
To  be  sure  that  my  victim  was  dead,  I  actually  witnessed  his  last 
struggles,  and  returned  homo  satisfied  that  the  tongue  I  most  feared 
upon  earth — the  only  living  creature  who  suspected  my  guilt — was 
silenced  and  cold  for  ever. 

Shallow  fool  that  I  was.  Conscience  never  sleeps !  The  voice 
of  remorse  sounds  up  from  the  lowest  deeps,  with  the  clang  of  the 
archangiil's  trump  blasting  in  the  guilty  ear  with  its  judgqient-peal. 
AVith  him,  my  peace  of  mind,  self-respect,  and  hopes  of  heaven,  van- 
ished for  ever ! 

I  have  since  often  tliought,  that  God  gave  me  this  last  chance  in 
order  to  try  me — to  see  if  any  good  remained  in  me — if  I  could  for 
once  resist  temptation,  and  iujt  towards  Martin  as  an  honest  man. 
I  have  folt,  amid  the  burning  agonies  of  my  sleepless,  phantom- 
haunted  nights,  that,  had  I  confessed  my  guilt  and  saved  him  from 
destruction,  the  same  pity  that  Christ  extended  to  the  thief  on  the 
cross,  might  have  been  shown  to  mo. 

These  dreadful  events  were  the  beginning  of  sorrows.  When  Mr. 
Walter  came  to  the  Hall  to  attend  his  uncle's  funeral,  and  the  will 
of  the  decciiscd  was  opened  by  the  man  of  business,  and  read  to  him 
after  the  melancholy  ceremony  was  over,  it  was  found  that  Mr. 
Carlos  had  named  nie  in  this  document  as  his  natural  son  by  Anna 
Cotton,  and  had  loft  me  the  hous*;  in  which  I  now  live,  together  with 
the  fifty  acres  adjoining,  and  two  thou;>and  pounds  in  the  funds — 
the  interest  of  the  latter  to  be  devoted  to  my  mother  during  her 
life,  but  both  princi})al  and  intercut  to  devolve  to  me  at  her  death. 

This  handsome  legacy  seemed  to  console  my  mother  a  great  deal 
for  the  loss  of  her  wealthy  lover  ;  but  it  only  served  to  debase  me 
lower  in  my  own  eyes,  and  deepen  the  pangs  of  remorse.  How 
gladly  would  I  have  quitted  this  part  of  the  country !  but  I  was  so 
haunted  by  tlie  fear  of  detection,  that  I  was  afraid  lest  it  might 
awaken  suspicions  in  the  minds  of  poor  neighbors.  On  every  hand 
I  heard  that  the  Squire  had  made  a  gentleman  of  Noah  Cotton, 
while  I  cursed  the  money  in  my  heart,  and  would  thankfully  have 
exchanged  my  lot  with  the  poorest  emigrant  that  ever  crossed  tlie 
Bcas  in  search  of  a  new  home. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


297 


The  property  bequeathed  me  by  the  Squire  was  a  mile  from  the 
villa^,  in  an  opposite  direction  to  the  porter's  lodge.  My  mother 
quitted  our  old  home  with  reluctance  ;  but  I  was  glad  to  leave  a 
place  which  was  associated  in  my  mind  Vith  such  terrible  recol- 
lections. 

The  night  before  we  removed  to  the  Porched  House — for  so  my 
new  home  was  called — I  waited  until  after  my  mother  had  retired 
to  her  bed,  and  then  carefully  removed  from  its  hiding-place  the 
sack  and  its  fatal  contents.  The  wagoner's  frock  and  hat,  together 
with  the  sack,  I  burned  in  a  field  at  the  back  of  the  Lodge,  and 
then  slunk  back,  like  a  guilty  wretch,  under  cover  of  night  and 
darkness,  to  my  own  chamber.  It  was  some  time  before  I  could 
muster  sufficient  courage  to  open  the  pocket-book.  It  felt  damp 
and  clammy  in  my  grasp.  It  had  been  saturated  with  his  blood ; 
and  the  roll  of  bank  notes  were  dyed  with  the  same  dull  red  hue.  I 
did  not.  unroll  them.  A  ghastly  sickness  stole  over  me  whenever  my 
eye  fell  upon  them.  I  seemed  distinctly  to  trace  his  dying  face  in 
tho^e  horrible  stains — that  last  look  of  blank  surprise  and  unutter- 
able woe  with  which  he  regarded  me  when  he  reaognised  in  me  his 
murderer !  " 

It  was  necessary  to  put  out  of  sight  these  memorials  of  my  guilt. 
I  would  have  burnt  them,  but  I  could  not  bring  my  heart  to  destroy 
such  a  large  sum  of  money  ;  neither  could  I  dare  to  make  use  of 
it.  An  old  bureau  had  been  purchased  by  my  mother  at  a  sale : 
she  had  given  it  to  me,  for  a  receptacle  of  books  and  papers.  I 
possessed  so  few  of  these,  that  I  generally  kept  my  shooting  appa- 
ratus in  its  many  odd  nooks  and  drawers.  While  stowing  away 
these,  I  had  discovered  a  secret  spring,  which  covered  a  place  ot 
concealment,  in  whi'ih  some  hoarder  of  by-gone  days  had  treasured 
a  few  guineas  of  the  reign  of  the  third  George.  These  I  had  appro- 
priated to  my  own  use,  and  had  considered  them  a  godsend  at  the 
time.  Into  this  drawer  I  now  thrust  the  blood-stained  pocket- 
book  and  the  useless  wealth  it  contained.  Never  since  that  hour 
have  I  drawn  it  from  its  hiding-place.  My  earnest  wish  is,  that 
when  I  am  gone  to  my  last  account,  this  money  may  be  restored  to 
the  family  to  whom  it  rightfully  belongs. 

When  I  settled  upon  the  farm,  it  afforded  me  a  good  pretext  to 
give  up  my  situation  as  gamekeeper.  Mr.  Walter,  now  Sir  Walter 
Carlos,  had  just  come  to  reside  at  the  Hall,  and,  being  a  great 
sportsman,  he  was  very  unwilling  to  disjjcnse  with  my  services. 

13* 


i 

'if' 
I 

m 


298 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"  Wait  at  least,  Noah,"  he  said,  "  until  after  the  shooting  season 
is  over.  I  expect  my  sister  Ella  and  her  husband,  and  a  large 
party  down  next  week.  No  one  can  point  out  the  best  haunts  of 
the  game  like  you.  This  will  give  me  time  to  procure  some  one  in 
your  place." 

I  named  George  Norton  aj  a  fitting  person  to  fill  the  vacant  situa- 
tion. He  promised  to  appoint  him  in  my  place,  but  insisted  on 
my  staying  with  him  until  the  end  of  October. 

Reluctantly  I  complied.  The  words  he  had  carelessly  spoken 
respecting  his  sister,  had  sent  a  fresh  arrow  through  my  heart. 
She,  for  whose  sake  I  had  committed  that  fearful  deed,  in  the  hope 
of  acquiring  wealth,  was  now  the  bride  of  another.  How  had  I 
dared  to  form  a  hope  that  one  so  far  removed  fi*om  me  by  birth  and 
education  would  ever  condescend  to  cast  one  thought  or>  me  ?  Blind 
fool  that  I  had  been  1  I  was  conscious  of  my  madness  now,  when 
I  had  forfeited  my  own  soul  to  obtain  the  smiles  of  one  who  could 
never  be  mine. 

The  gay  party  arrived  in  due  time  at  the  Hall,  and  Sir  Walter 
forgot  its  old  possessor,  the  friend  of  his  boyhood,  the  gay,  royster- 
ing,  reckless  man  who  slept  so  quietly  in  the  old  churchyard,  while 
pm-suing  his  favorite  sport. 

Captain  Manners,  the  husband  of  my  beautiful  Ella,  was  a  fine, 
dashing-looking  officer,  and  I  felt  bitterly  jealous  of  him  whenever 
I  saw  him  and  his  young  bride  together.  In  spite  of  her  sables, 
she  was  all  smiles  and  sunshine — the  life  and  soul  of  the  party  at 
the  Hall. 

One  fine  afternoon — I  shall  never  forget  it ! — I  was  following 
the  gentlemen  with  the  dogs,  when  we  came  to  the  fatal  spot  where 
Mr.  Carlos  had  been  murdered. 

I  had  never  trod  that  path  since  the  night  of  his  death,  though, 
in  my  dreams,  I  constantly  revisited  the  spot,  and  enacted  the 
revolting  scene  in  all  its  terrible  details.  But  there  was  no  avoid- 
ing it  now.  I  felt  as  if  every  eye  was  upon  me,  and  I  stooped  to 
caress  the  dogs,  in  order  to  conceal  the  agitation  that  trembled 
through  my  frame. 

Just  as  we  drew  near  the  gate.  Sir  Walter  fired  at  a  partridge, 
which  fell  among  the  long  fern  just  at  my  side. 

**  Hullo,  Noah !  pick  up  that  bird.  'Tis  a  splendid  cock,"  cried 
Sir  Walter. 

I  parted  the  fern  with  trembling  hands  to  do  his  bidding.    The 


TLOKA    LYNDSAT. 


299 


bird  lay  dead  on  the  very  stone  over  which  my  unliappy  father's 
life-blood  had  gushed.  I  saw  the  fresh,  warm  drops  that  had  flowed 
from  the  breast  of  the  bird,  but  beneath  was  a  darker  stain.  I 
tried  in  vain  to  lift  the  crc;iturc  from  the  ground.  Before  me  lay 
the  bleeding,  prostrate  form  of  Mr.  Carlos,  with  the  tender  reproach 
gleaming  in  his  eyes  through  the  deepening  mists  of  death.  My 
senses  reeled — I  saw  no  more — I  sank  down  in  a  fit, — the  first  of 
those  dreadful  epileptic  fits  which  have  since  been  of  such  constant 
recurrence. 

When  I  recovered,  Sir  Walter  was  supporting  me,  and  Mrs. 
Manners,  who  had  followed  her  husband  to  the  field,  was  fanning 
me  with  a  small  branch  of  sycamore  leaves, 

^'  He's  coming  to,"  she  said,  in  a  gentle  voice.  "  Why  Noah," — 
addressing  herself  tome — "what  ails  you?  Were  you  ever  this 
way  before?" 

I  answered  very  faintly,  "  No ;  but  I  had  not  been  well  for  som3 
time  past.  And  when  I  stooped  to  lift  the  bird,  every  object  seemed 
to  turn  round  with  me,  and  looked  first  red  and  then  black — and  I 
remembered  nothing  more." 

"  You  must  be  bled,  Noah,"  said  Sir  Walter,  kindly  ;  "  this  is  a 
clear  case  of  blood  to  the  head.  Go  home,  and  I  will  send  Dr.  Piu- 
nock  to  see  you  as  I  return  to  the  Hall." 

"  I  am  better  now,"  I  replied,  glancing  towards  Mrs.  Manners, 
who  was  regarding  mc  with  looks  of  interest  and  compassion.  "  To 
tell  you  the  truth.  Sir  Walter,  I  have  not  felt  like  myself  since  Mr. 
Carlos  was  killed.  It  gave  me  a  dreadful  shock.  It  was  on  this 
very  spot  where  he  was  murdered.  That  stone  is  stained  with  his 
blood.  When  I  saw  it  just  now,  it  brought  the  whole  scene  so  viv- 
idly before  me,  that  it  made  me  ill.' 

"  No  wonder,"  said  Ella,  thoughtfully.  "  My  poor  dear  uncle ! 
He  was  the  best-hearted  man  in  the  world — and  was  so  fond  of  you, 
Noah." 

"  He  had  a  good  right  to  be,"  returned  Sir  Walter.  "  You  are 
not  perhaps  aware,  Flla,"  he  added,  in  a  low  voice, "  that  our  friend 
Noah  is  his  son." 

"  Indeed  !"  cried  she ;  "  that  accounts  for  the  affection  we  both 
felt  fo'r  him  when  a  boy — the  interest  we  feel  for  him  still." 

"  I  wish  I  was  more  deserving  of  your  good  opinion,"  I  said. 
"  But  believe  me,  Mrs.  Manners,  I  shall  retain,  during  my  life,  a 
grateful  remembrance  of  your  kindness." 


300 


ri-oiu    LYXnSAY. 


I  lifted  my  hat  wltli  profound  rc?pect,  and  looked  .long  and  sadly 
upon  her — it  was  for  the  last  time — (she  followed  her  husband  to 
India,  and  I  never  saw  her  again)  :  and,  whistling  to  my  dogs,  I 
pursued  ray  solitary  way. 

CHAPTER    XLVIII. 


.      MV   MOTHER   AND   THE   SQUIKE. 

From  that  hour  I  became  a  prey  to  constant  remorse.  My 
health  declined,  and  my  mother  at  last  remarked  the  change  in  my 
appearance  ;  but  at  that  time  I  am  certain  she  had  no  idea  of  the 
cause. 

"  Noah,"  she  said,  one  night,  as  we  were  crouching  over  the  fire, 
for  it  was  winter,  and  very  cold — "  you  are  much  changed  of  late. 
You  look  ill,  and  out  of  spirits ;  you  eat  little,  and  speak  less.  My 
dear  son,  Avhat  in  the  world  ails  you?" 

"  I  am  tired  of  this  place,  mother.  I  should  like  to  sell  off,  and 
go  to  America." 

"  And  leave  niG  for  ever?"' 

"  You,  of  course,  would  go  with  me." 

"  Never !"  said  my  mother,  emphatically.  "  Of  all  places  in  the 
world,  I  cannot  go  there."' 

I  looked  up  intjuiringly. 

"  I  will  give  you  my  reasons,"  she  continued.  "  Listen  to  me, 
Noah.  I  have  never  tolt^  you  anything  about  myself;  but,  before 
I  die,  it  is  only  right  that  you  should  know  all.  My  husband, 
whose  name  you  bear,  is  not,  to  my  knowledge,  dead  ;  if  living,  ho 
is  in  America." 

"  Oh,  that  1  had  been  his  son !"  I  groaned.  "  But,  mother,  pro- 
ceed— pro(XXHl." 

"  To  make  matters  intelligible  to  you,  it  is  necessary  that  I  should 
go  back  to  my  early  days.  I  was  the  only  chiUl  of  a  poor  shoe- 
maker in  St.  Alban's.  My  father  was  reckoned  a  good  hand  at  his 
trade,  but  he  was  sadly  addicted  to  drink ;  for  ten  years  before  he 
died,  I  never  remember  his  going  one  night  to  his  bed  sober.  My 
poor  mother  was  a  neat,  quiet  little  woman,  who  did  all  in  her 
power  to  keep  things  straight.  But  first  one  piece  of  household 
fiirniture  went,  and  then  another,  until  we  were  k-ft  with  bare  walla 
and  an  empty  cupboard. 


ri.OKA     LYXDSAY. 


301 


"  '  Annie,'  said  my  mother,  •  tliis  won't  do.  You  must  fj^o  out 
ftud  work  for  your  living  ;  you  cannot  stay  at  home  and  starve.' 

"  '  And  you,  mother  ?' 

"  '  God  will  take  care  of  mo,  my  child.  I  cannot  leave  your 
father  ;  I  must  work  for  him — ho  is  my  husband  ;  and,  in  spite  of 
this  dreadful  vice,  I  love  him  still.' 

"  Iler  constancy  and  patient  endurance,  under  a  thousand  priva- 
tions, was  wonderful. 

"  I  was  reckoned  a  very  pretty  girl ;  alhthe  neighbore  said  so, 
and  I  thought  so  myself.  They  were  sorry  for  our  altered  circum- 
stances. They  respected  my  mother  ;  and,  though  they  blamed  my 
father,  they  pitied  him  as  well  as  blamed — (he  had  been  a  general 
favorite  before  he  became  lost  to  himself  and  us) — and  did  all  in 
their  power  to  assist  my  mother  in  her  distress.  One  of  these  sym- 
pathising friends  was  the  dressmaker  employed  by  the  great  lady  of 
the  parish.  This  woman  got  me  into  service  as  waiting-maid  to 
the  young  ladies  of  the  Grange. 

"  Miss  Elinor  Landsmeer  was  on  the  eve  of  marriage  with  Mr. 
Carlos  ;  and  she  used  to  talk  to  me  a  great  deal  about  her  lover, 
while  I  was  dressing  her  hair  of  a  night.  *  He  was  so  handsome,' 
she  said,  '  so  good-natured  and  merry.  ITe  danced  and  sang  so 
well,  rode  so  gallantly,  and  was  such  a  capital  shot.  He  Avas  ad- 
mired and  courted  by  all  the  ladies  ;  and  she  considered  herself  the 
most  fortunate  girl  in  the  world  to  have  secured  the  affections  of 
such  a  charming  young  man.  And  then,  Annie,  besides  all  these 
advantages  of  person  and  manners,  he  is  so  rick — so  immmsely  rich, 
he  can  indulge  me  in  my  taste  for  pictures,  and  books,  and  dross, 
without  ruining  himself.  Oh,  I  shall  be  so  happy — so  happy  I — 
and  then  she  would  clap  her  little  white  hands,  and  laugh  in  child- 
ish glee.  And  very  young  she  was,  and  very  pretty  too  ; — not  a 
showy  sort  of  beauty,  but  soft  and  gentle, — not  gay  and  dashing, 
like  some  of  her  elder  sistei-s.  They  were  all  engaged  to  men  of 
ranlc  and  fashion  ;  and  they  laughed  at  Miss  Elinor  for  marrying  an 
untitled  man.  But  she  was  so  much  in  love  with  Mr.  Carlos,  that 
she  was  as  happy  as  a  lark. 

"  When  I  saw  Mr.  Carlos,  I  thought  she  was,  indeed,  a  fortunate 
young  lady  ;  and  I  could  not  help  envying  her  the  handsome  rich 
lover  who  was  so  soon  to  make  her  his  bride. 

"  I  always  liked  waiting  on  my  pretty  young  lady  ;  but  I  felt  a 
double  pleasure  in  doing  so  when  Mr.  Carlos  was  by.    He  often 


J 


302 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


joked  Miss  Eliuor  on  my  good  looks,  and  would  ask  her  '  if  she 
was  not  jealous  of  her  pretty  waiting-waid  ?' 

"  '  Oh,  no,'  she  would  laughingly  reply.  '  I  am  like  you,  Wal- 
ter,— I  dont  like  ugly  people  about  me.  Annie  is  as  good  as  she 
looks.  Cannot  you  find  a  good  husband  for  her  among  your 
tenants  ?' 

*'  *  I'll  do  my  best,'  he  said,  in  the  same  bantering  tone.  '  By- 
the-bye,  Annie — if  that  is  your  name — what  do  you  think  of  my 
valet,  Mr.  Noah  Cotton?'   " 

"  '  What  an  antiquated  name  !' — and  my  mistress  laughed  out. 
'  Was. he  brought  up  in  the  Ark  ?' 

" '  Names  go  by  contraries,  my  dear,'  said  Mr.  Carlos.  *  Noah 
is  a  deuced  handsome  fellow  ;  not  soft,  as  his  name  would  imply* 
but  shrewd  and  clever — as  sharp  as  a  needle.  I  think  he  would 
suit  Annie  exactly  ;  and  you  and  I  will  stand  godfather  and  god- 
mother for  all  the  little  Shems,  Hams,  and  Japhets  they  may  hap- 
pen to  place  in  their  ark." 

"  '  Fie,  Walter,  fie !  You  make  Annie  blush  like  a  rose.  Look 
at  him,  Annie,  the  next  time  he  comes  in,  and  tell  me  what  you 
think  of  the  fine  husband  Mr.  Carlos  has  provided  for  you.' 

"  '  Oh,  Miss  Elinor,'  I  cried,  dropping  a  low  courtsey,  '  it  is  very 
kind  of  Mr.  Carlos ;  but  I  never  look  at  the  servants.  I  am  too 
young  to  marry.' 

"  But  I  did  look  at  Mr.  Cotton.  He  was  very  attentive  to  me, 
and  I  ^oon  thought  him  all  that  his  master  had  said  he  was.  I  did 
not  love  him,  but  I  foolishly  imagined  that  it  was  a  fine  thing  to 
have  a  sweetheart,  and  to  be  married,  like  my  young  mistress.  And 
Noah  Cotton  was  a  farmer's  son,  and  better  educated  than  most 
people  in  our  class.  He  had  a  good  place,  and  was  a  great  favorite 
with  his  master,  and  could  afford  to  keep  me  very  comfortably.  So, 
when  he  told  me  that  he  preferred  mo  to  all  the  girls  he  .had  ever 
seen,  and  asked  me  to  marry  him,  I  said  that  I  would  consult  my 
mistress,  and,  if  she  approved  of  it,  I  had  not  the  least  objection. 
Miss  Elinor  was  enchanted  with  it.  She  said  it  would  be  capital ; 
that  we  should  be  marrie<l_on  the  same  day  with  her  and  Mr.  Car- 
los ;  that  she  would  buy  my  wedding-suit,  and  the  Squire  would 
pay  the  parson  the  fees  ;  and  that  we  should  go  with  them  abroad, 
in  the  same  capacity  we  then  held. 

"  And  it  all  took  place  as  she  promised.  I  was  dressed  in  white 
tnuslin,  trimmed  with  white  ribbons,  and  just  one  moss  rose-bud  in 


FLORA     LYXDSAY. 


803 


my  bosom,  and  another  in  ray  hair.  Miss  Elinor  put  them  in  hor- 
self;  and  then,  when  I  was  dressed,  she  took  my  hands  in  hers,  and 
turned  me  all  round,  to  sec  that  all  was  neat  and  nice,  and  she  kissed 
my  forehead,  and  said  that  I  looked  charming — that  any  man  might 
be  proud  of  such  a  little  wife  ;  and  she  called  her  own  bridegroom 
into  her  dressing-room,  to  come  and  look  at  mc  before  I  went  to 
church. 

"  Mr.  Carlos  seemed  quite  struck  with  my  appearance,  and 
declared  '  that  I  looked  as  handsome  as  my  mistress — that  Noah 
was  a  very  fortunate  fellow ;  and  if  he  had  not  been  going  to  marry 
his  own  dear  Elinor,  he  would  have  married  me  him.'elf.' 

"  This  was  all  a  joke  then.  My  mistress  did  not  likv  it,  however. 
She  did  not  laugh,  and  looked  very  grave  for  somj  minutee,  and 
was  very  hard  to  please  for  some  days  after  the  wedding. 

"  It  did  not  strike  me  then,  for  I  was  too  happy  and  too  vain  to 
think  of  anything  but  myself;  but  it  has  often  struck  me  since  that 
.  Mrs.  Carlos  was  jealous  of  me  from  that  hour. 

"  Mr.  Carlos  took  his  bride  to  Italy,  and  we  went  with  them  to 
a  great  many  different  countries  and  large  cities.  It  was  rather 
dull  for  me,  for  I  could  not  speak  the  strange  outlandish  lingo  of 
those  foreign  lands ;  and  by  the  time  one  begiin  to  know  a  few 
"words,  we  were  off  to  another  place,  where  we  were  as  ignorant  as 
we  were  before. 

"  After  the  first  three  months  of  our  marriage,  my  husband  grew 
very  cross,  and  was  jealous'  of  every  man  who  spoke  civilly  to  me, 
though,  God  knows,  at  that  time  I  was  very  fond  of  him,  and  never 
gave  him  the  least  cause  for  his  suspicions.  He  was  an  obstinate, 
stern-tempcrod  man,  a  strict  Presbytx^rian,  and  very  averse  to  any 
innocent  amusements,  in  which  I  greatly  delighted.  Thus  matters 
went  on  from  day  to  day,  until  I,  not  only  ceased  to  love  him,  but 
wished,  from  my  very  heart,  that  I  had  never  married  him.  I  no 
longer  tried  to  please  him,  but  did  all  in  my  power  to  vex  and 
aggravate  him,  in  the  hopq,  that  he  would  put  a  favorite  threat  of 
his  in  practice,  and  '•".n  away  and  leave  me. 

"  My  master  always  reprimanded  my  husband  when  he  spoke 
sharply  fo  me,  and  told  him,  that  he  was  not  worthy  of  such  a 
treasure  ;  but  his  interference  only  made  matters  worse. ' 

"  I  often  complained  to  Mrs.  Carlos  of  Noah's  cruel  treatment, 
but  she  always  excused  him,  and  said  that  it  was  I  that  was  to 
blame ;  that  I  made  crimes  out  of  every  little  freak  of  temper,  ajui 


304 


FLORA     LVNDSAY. 


that  instead  of  conciliating  my  husband,  I  made  the  breach  wider 
by  insults  and  reproaches,  and  took  no  pains  to  please  him  ;  that 
if  she  were  to  behave  in  the  same  way  to  Mr.  Carlos,  she  should 
not  wonder  at  his  disliking  her. 

'•  These  observations  wounded  my  pride.  I  thought  them  cruel 
and  unjust,  and  I  left  her  room  in  tears.  Mr.  Carlos  met  me  on 
the  stairs.  I  was  crying  bitterly,  jmrtly  out  of. anger,  and  partly 
in  the  hope  of  making  my  mistress  sorry  for  what  she  had  said. 

lie  asked  me  what  grieved  me  so,  and  I  told  him  how  I  had  been 
treated  by  Noah,  and  described  in  exaggerated  terms  the  reproof  I 
had  got  from  his  wife.  Mr.  Carlos  pinched  my  cheek  and  told  mo 
to  dry  my  eyes,  for  crying  spoilt  my  beauty  ;  and  not  to  care  for 
what  Noah  or  my  mistress  said  to  me ;  that  he  was  my  friend,  and 
loved  and  respected  me  too  much  to  sufler  me  to  be  ill-used. 

"  I  felt  proud  of  my  master's  sympathy,  and  lost  no  opportunity 
to  increase  it,  and  attract  his  attention.  You  may  guess,  my  son, 
liow  all  this  ended.  My  master  conceived  a  violent  passion  for  me, 
which  I  was  not  slow  in  returning,  and  we  carried  on  our  intimacy 
with  such  circumspection,  that  for  two  years  it  escaped  the  vigilant 
eyes  of  my  husband,  aiul  the- fretful  jealousy  of  my  mistress.  The 
fear  of  detection  made  me  very  cautious  in  the  presence  of  the 
injured  parties.  I  appeared  more  anxious  to  please  my  mistress, 
and  more  distant  and  respectful  to  Mr.  Carlos,  while  I  bore  with 
apparent  patience  and  resignation  the  ill-humor  of  my  now  detest- 
ed husband.  For  the  ebove-named  period,  both  were  deceived,  and 
it  was  during  this  season  of  crime  and  hypocrisy  that  you,  my  son, 
were  born.  The  startling  resemblance  you  bore  to  your  real  father 
did  not  escape  my  husbands  observation,  and  called  forth  some  of 
his  bitterest  remarks. 

"  I,  for  my  part,  swore  that  the  child  was  the  image  of  him ;  and 
in  order  to  lull  his  suspicions,  conferred  upon  it  the  odious  and 
hated  name  of  Noah. 

"  My  mistress  often  visited  my  chamber  during  my  confinement. 
Once,  she  brought  Mr.  Carlos  with  her  to  see  the  babv.  '  It  is  a 
beatiful  little  cherub !'  he  cried,  kissing  it  with  all  his  heart  in  his 
eyes,  'the  picture  of  Annie," 

"You  will  laugh  at  me,  Walter,"  said  my  mistress  gravely,  "but 
I  think  the  child  is  so  like  you," 

"  She  looked  him  steadily  in  the  face  as  she  said  this.  I  thought 
he  would  have  let  the  babe  drop,  he  did  so  stammer  and  color  as  he 


FLORA    LYND9AY. 


305 


tried  to  laugh  hor  words  off  as  a  good  joke.  As  to  me,  my  face 
burnt  like  fire>  and  1  drew  up  the  bed-clothes  in  order  to  concetil  it. 
She  h)okwl  first  at  me,  and  tlicn  at  Mr.  Carlos.  There  needed  no 
further  witness:  of  our  guilt.  We  were  both  convicted  by  cou- 
Bcience,  yet  boldly  er.deavoretl  to  affect  indifference." 

•*1  see  Ijow  it  is  "  she  said,  bursting  into  tears,  "you  have  both 
eruelly  wronged  me.  YetT  for  this  poor  babe's  sake,  I  pray  God  to 
forgive  yi(U." 

'*  She  kissed  the  infant  with  great  tenderness,  (she  never  had  one 
of  her  own,)  laid  it  in  the  be<l  beside  me,  and  withdrew  in  teal's; 
My  heart  smote  me,  and  I  wept  too.  The  Squire  bent  over  me, 
and  kissing  the  tears  from  my  eyes,  said  in  a  whisper,  'Annie,  the 
cut  is  out  of  the  bag.  My  darling,  you  cannot  stay  here.  I  will 
get  a  carriage  and  take  you  to  London.  You  will  be  well  taken 
care  of,  and  J  can  see  you  whenever  I  like,  without  the  painful 
rt^traint  we  are  forced  to  put  upon  our  actions  here." 

"  I  did  not  answer.  I  was  sorry  for  my  mistress,  and  ashamal 
of  my  own  base  conduct.  At  that  moment  I  almost  felt  as  if  I 
liu^od  him." 

"  It  was  some  days  before  I  was  able  to  be  moved  from  my  bed  ; 
but  I  saw  my  mistress  no  more.  The  girl  who  waited  upon  me,  and 
who  was  well  paid  by  Mr.  Carlos  for  her  attendance,  told  me  that 
she  was  very  ill,  that  the  doctor  visited  her  twice  a  day,  and  said 
that  she  must  be  kept  very  quiet,  and  nothing  said  or  done  to  agi- 
tate her  feelings  ;  that  she  believed  her  sickness  w.aa  occasioned  by 
a  quarrel  she  had  had  with  Mr.  Carlos,  but  she  did  not  know  what 
it  was  all  about ;  the  Squire  had  left  her  room  in  a  great  rage,  and 
was  gone  from  home  for  a  vt'cek. 

"  I  felt  certain  that  I  was  the  cause  of  this  illness,  and  that  the 
qimrrel  was  about  me,  which  made  mc  very  anxious  to  leave  the 
house. 

"  That  evening  my  husband  came  in  to  see  me.  He  had  been 
drinking  freely.  He  sat  down  by  the  bed-side  and  looked  cross  and 
moodily  at  mo.  The  baby  began  to  cry,  and  I  asked  him  to  hold 
it  for  me  a  minute." 

"  '  The  hateful  brat!'  he  said,  '  I  would  rather  wring  its  peck !' 

"  '  What  an  affectionate  father !'  I  cried. 

'* '  Father !'  he  burst  out,  in  a  voice  of  thunder.  '  Will  you  daro 
to  call  mc  the  ftvther  of  this  child  ?' 

"  '  Of  course  it  is  your  child.' 


__ja 


306 


FLORA    I.YNDSAV. 


"  '  Annie,  'tis  a  base  lie !'  he  said,  bending  down  to  my  pillow  and 
hissing  the  words  into  my  car ;  '  Mr.  Carlos  is  the  father  of  this 
child,  and  you  cannot  look  me  in  the  face  and  deny  it.  Has  not 
God  brought  against  you  a  witness  of  your  guilt  in  the  face  of  this 
bastard,  whom  you  have  called  by  my  name,  to  add  insult  to  injury. 
I  could  kill  both  you  and  it,  did  I  not  know  that  that  would  be  but 
a  poor  revenge.  No  ;  live  to  deserve  his  scorn  as  you  have  done 
to  deserve  mine,  and  may  this  child  be  your  punishment  and  curse !' 

"  I  cowered  before  his  just  and  furious  anger.  I  saw  it  was 
useless  longer  to  deny  the  truth,  still  more  useless  to  entreat  his  for- 
giveness  for  the  injury  I  had  done  him  ;  and  I  drew  a  freer  breath 
when  he  tauntingly  informed  me,  '  that  this  meeting  was  our  last; 
that  he  no  longer  looked  upon  me  as  his  wife  ;  that  he  had  loved 
me  faithfully,  and  I  had  dishonored  him  ;  and  he  had  taken  his  pas- 
sage for  America,  and  would  leave  England  for  ever  the  next  morn 
ing,' 

'*  IFe  was  true  to  his  word.  He  left  me  with  hatred  in  his  heart 
and  scorn  upon  his  lips,  and  I  have  never  heard  from  him  or  seeu 
him  since.  , 

"  Mr.  Carlos  and  I  rejoiced  at  his  departure,  for  he  was  the  only 
pcrsor.  fr'^m  whose  anger  we  had  anything  to  dread.  My  poor  mis- 
tress suffered  in  silence.  She  never  made  her  wrongs  known  to  her 
own  family  or  to  the  worhl. 

"  Mr.  Carlos  hired  lodgings  for  me  in  London,  where  I  lived  until 
his  wife  died,  which  event  toolc  place  a  few  weeks  after  I  quilted 
the  house.  Her  death,  for  awhile,  greatly  affected  the  Squire,  and 
for  several  months  ]ie  appeared  restle-ss  and  unhappy.  Once  he  said 
to  me  wry  sorrowfully — it  was  a  few  days  after  her  funeral — '  Annie, 
my  wife  was  an  angel.  My  love  for  you  broke  her  heart.  AVith 
her  last  breath  she  forgave  me^  and  becrged  me  to  be  kind  to  vou 
and  the  child.  I  was  not  worthy  of  her.  I  wish  from  my  very  soul 
that  I  had  never  seen  you.' 

"  These  words  made  me  very  unhappy,  for  I  adored  Afr.  Curios, 
and  dreaded  the  least  diminution  of  his  regard  ;  and  T  could  not  help 
feeling  dwp  remorse  for  the  share  I  bad  had  in  the  untimely  dq^itli 
of  my  beautiful  young  mistress.  I  grew  sad  and  melancholy,  and 
Mr.  Carlos,  who  really  loved  me  and  my  child  better  than  anythiug 
in  the  world,  and  would  have  married  me*  had  m^  husband's  death 
rendered  that  event  possible,  brought  me  down  to  F^ ,  and  estab- 
lished me  at  the  porter's  lodge,  where  he  could  see  and  converse 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


301 


"with  mo  every  day.  It  was  well-known  in  the  neighborhood  on 
what  footing  I  stood  with  the  Squire,  thougli  you,  my  poor  boy, 
never  suspected  the  fact.  You  may  now  perceive,  Noah,  how  great 
ha3  been  our  loss  in  Mr.  Carlos.  I  have  lost  a  kind  friend  and  pro- 
tector, a  husband  in  everything  but  the  name,  and  you  an  ailection- 
ate  friend  and  father.  Do  not  urge  me  to  leave  this  place.  When 
I  die  I  wish  my  be  ..,0  to  lie  in  the  same  churchyard  with  his, 
although  his  rank  hinders  me  from  sharing  his  grave. 
•  My  mother  ceased  speaking,  and  sat  with  her  hands  folded  com- 
placently in  her  lap,  and  I  glared  upon  her  for  some  time  in  gloomy 
silence.  She  appeared  tranquil,  scarcely  conscious  of  the  crimes 
she  had  committed.  Was  she  not  as  much  a  murderess  as  I  was  a 
murderer,  with  only  this  difference,  that  I  had  struck  my  victim 
suddenly  and  quickly,  she  had  tortured  hers  for  two  whole  years, 
until  she  sank  broken-hearted  into  an  early  grave  ;  and  hud  not  her 
sin  been  the  parent  of  my  own  ?  Then  I  thought  of  her  husband's 
te^ib^f^  pi'pse,  "  May  that  child  live  to  be  your  punishment !"  Was 
not  the  fearful  prediction  already  fulfilled,  although  she  was  igno- 
rant of  it  ?  I  cannot  say  that  I  felt  glad  that  she  was  no  better 
than  her  son,  but  it  seemed  a  palliation  of  my  own  guilt.    . 

Afy  mother  was  annoyed  by  my  long  silence. 

"  What  are  you  thinking  about,  Noah  ?" 

"The  shocking  story  you  have  just  told  me.  I  didjiot  think 
it  possible,  mother,  that  you  could  be  so  bad." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?"  she  cried  out,  angrily. 

"  I  mean  what  I  say.  If  this  story  does  not  lower  you  in  your 
own  eyes,  it  docs  in  mine.  Mother,  I  have  always  respected  and 
venerated  you  till  this  moment ;  I  can  do  so  no  longer.  For,  mark 
me,  mother,  as  the  tree  is,  so  is  the  fruit.  How  can  you  expect 
me,  the  offspring  of  such  guilt,  ever  to  be  a  good  man  ?" 

"  Noah,  this  is  strange  language  from  you.  Thank  God  !  you 
have  done  nothing  at  present  to  cause  me  shame  or  reproach." 

*'  You  don't  know  wiiat  I  have  done — what  this  confession  of 
yours  may  tempt  me  to  do.  God  knows,  I  would  rather  have  been 
the  son  of  the  despised  and  injured  man  whose  name  I  bear,  than 
the  bastard  of  the  silken  reprobate  it  was  your  shame  to  love." 

*  Oh,  Noah  !  do  not  speak  thus  of  your  own  father. 

"  Curse  him  !  He  has  already  met  with  his  reward.  And  your 
sin,  mother,  will  yet  find  you  out."  .        .  *_ 


I 


808 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


I  sprang  from  my  chair  to  leave  the  room — my  mother  laid  her 
hand  upon  my  arm — her  eyes  were  brimful  o"  tears. 

"  Noah,  I  have  not  deserved  this  treatment  from  you.  What- 
ever my  faults  may  have  been,  I  have  been  a  kind  mother  to  you." 

She  looked  so  piteous  through  her  teara,  that,  savage  as  I  felt, 
my  heart  reproached  me  for  my  harsh,  cruel  speech.  I  kissed  her 
pale  cheek  and  sighed,  "  I  forgive  you,  my  poor  mother.  I  would 
that  God  could  as  easily  pardon  us  both ;  but  He  is  just  as  well  as 
merciful,  and  we  are  great  sinners." 

She  looked  inquiringly  at  mc,as  I  lighted  the  candle  and  strode 
up  to  bed. 


CHAPTER  XLIX. 


EVIL  THOUGHTS — THE  PANGS  OP  REMORSE. 

Arx  day  I  toiled  hard  on  my  farm  to  drown  evil  thoughts.  If  I 
relaxed  the  least  from  my  labor,  the  tempter  was  ever  at  hand,  urg- 
ing me  to  commit  fresh  crimes ;  and  night  brought  with  it  horrors 
tliat  I  dared  not  think  of  in  tlie  broad  light  of  day.  I  no  longer 
cared  for  wealth.  The  hope  of  distinguishing  myself  in  the  world 
had  died  out  of  my  heart.  But  industry  always  brings  a  reward 
for  toil ;  and  in  spite  of  my  indifference,  money  accumulated,  and  I 
grew  rich. 

My  household  expenses  were  so  moderate  (for  I  shunned  all 
soclely),  that  every  year  I  put  by  a  large  sum,  little  caring  by 
whom  it  might  hereafter  be  spent.  My  mother  sometimes  urged 
mo  to  marry,  but  I  slighted  her  advice  on  that  head.  The  history 
of  her  wedded  life  was  enough  to  make  me  eschew  the  yoke  of 
matrimony. 

My  old  cra^e  for  leaving  the  country  was  still  as  strong  as  ever ; 
but  I  had  given  a  solemn  promise  to  my  mother  to  remain  in  Eng- 
land as  long  as  she  lived.  Often  as  I  sat  opposite  to  her  in  the 
winter  evenings,  I  wished  it  would  please  God  to  take  her.  It  was 
very  wicked  ;  but  I  never  could  meet  her  eyes  without  fearing  lest 
she  should  read  my  dreadful  secret  in  the  guilty  gloom  of  min  .  I 
had  loved  her  so  devotedly  when  a  boy,  that  these  sinful  thoughts 
were  little  less  than  murder. 

There  was  one  other  person  whom  I  always  dreaded  to  meet,  and 
that  was  Mrs.  Martin,  the  mother  of  my  unfortunate  victim.    This 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


309 


woman  never  passed  me  on  the  road  without  looking  me  resolutely 
in  the  face.  There  was  a  something  which  I  could  scarcely  define 
in  her  earnest  regard  ;  it  was  a  mixture  of  contempt  and  defiance 
— of  malignity  and  a  burning  thirst  for  revenge.  At  any  rate,  I 
feared  and  hated  her,  and  wished  her  either  dead  or  out  of  my  path. 

Fortunately  for  me,  she  heard  of  a  situation  likely  to  suit  her  in 
a  distant  parish,  but  lacked  the  means  to  transport  herself  and  her 
.  little  daugher  thither.  I  was  so  eager  to  get  rid  of  her,  that  I  sent 
^hcr  anonymously  ten  pounds  to  further  that  object.  My  mother 
and  her  gossips  imagined  the  donation  came  from*  the  Hall,  and 
were  loud  in  their  praises  of  Sir  Walter,  and  his  generous  present 
to  the  poor  widow.  But  Sir  Walter  Carlos  had  no  such  motives 
as  mine  to  stimulate  his  bounty. 

It  was  just  about  this  period  that  I  fell  sick  of  a  dangerous  and 
highly  infectious  fever.  The  house  was  of  course  deserted.  Tlie 
doctor  and  my  mother  were  the  only  persons  who  approached  my 
sick-bed  ;  the  latter  had  all  the  fatigue  and  anxiety  of  nursing  me 
herself,  and  she  did  not  shrink  from  the  task. 

The  good,  the  happy,  the  fortunate,  the  lovely,  and  the  beloved, 
those  to  whom  life  is  very  dear,  and  the  world  a  paradise,  die,  and 
are  consigned  by  their  weeping  friends  and  kindred  to  the  dust. 
But  a  despairing,  heaven-abandoned,  miserable  wretch  like  me, 
struggled  through  the  horrors  of  that  waking  nightrinarc  of  agony^ 
the  typhus  fever,  and  once  more  recovered  to  the  consciousness  of 
unutterable  woe. 

Delirium,  like  wine,  lays  bare  the  heart,  and  shows  all  its  weak- 
ness and  its  guilt,  revealing  secrets  which  the  possessor  has  for  half 
a  life  carefully  hid.  This,  I  doubt  not,  was  my  case,  although  no 
human  lip  ever  revealed  to  me  the  fact. 

When  I  left  my  bed,  I  found  my  mother  gliding  about  the  house, 
the  very  spectre  of  her  former  self.  Her  beautiful  auburn  hair,  of 
which  she  was  so  proud,  and  which,  when  a  boy,  I  used  to  admire 
80  much  in  its  glossy  bands,  was  as  white  as  snow.  Her  bright, 
blue  loving  eye  had  lost  all  its  fire,  and  looked  dim  and  hopeless, 
like  the  eyes  of  the  dead.  Alarmed  at  her  appearance,  I  demanded 
if  she  was  ill. 

She  shook  her  head,  and  said,  "  that  her  anxiety  during  my  ill- 
ness had  sadly  pulled  her  down.  But  I  need  not  ask  any  questions. 
God  had  humbled  her  greatly.    Her  sin  had  found  her  out."    And 


310 


FLORA    LTNDSAT. 


then  she  hurried  from  me,  and  I  heard  her  weeping  hysterically  in 
her  own  room. 

"  Could  I  have  betrayed  myself  during  the  ravings  of  fever  ?"  I 
trembled  at  the  thought ;  but  I  dared  not  ask. 

After  this,  no  confidence  existed  between  me  and  my  mother. 
During  the  day  I  labored  in  the  field,  and  we  saw  little  of  each 
other.  At  night,  we  sat  for  hours  in  silence — I  with  a  book,  and 
she  with  her  work — without  uttering  a  word.  Both  seemed  unwil- 
ling to  part  company  and  go  to  bed,  but  we  lacked  the  moral  cour- 
age to  disclose  the  sorrow  that  was  secretly  consuming  us. 

Years  passed  on  in  this  cheerless  manner — this  living  death.  My 
mother  at  length  roused  herself  from  the  stupor  of  despair.  She 
read  the  Bible  earnestly,  constantly  ;  she  wept  and  prayed,  she  went 
regularly  to  chapel,  and  got  what  the  Methodists  call  religion. 
Her  repentance  was  deep  and  sincere;  she  gradually  grew  more 
cheerful,  and  would  talk  to  me  of  the  change  she  had  experienced, 
urging  me,  in  the  most  pathetic  manner,  to  confess  my  sins  to  God, 
and  sue  for  pardon  and  peace  through  the  blood  of  the  Saviour.  My 
heart  was  closed  to  conviction — I  could  neither  read  nor  pray. 
The  only  thing  from  which  I  derived  the  least  comfort  was  in  send- 
ing from  time  to  time,  large  sums  of  money  anonymously  to  Sir 
Walter  Carlos,  to  relieve  him  frgm  difficulties  to  which  he  was 
often  exposed  by  his  reckless  extravagance. 

The  beautiful  Ella,  the  idol  of  my  boyhood  and  youth,  died  in 
India.  I  heard  the  news  with  indifference ;  but  when  I  saw  the 
lovely  orphan  girl  she  had  left  to  the  guardianship  of  her  brother,  I 
wept  bitter  tears,  for  she  reminded  me  of  her  mother  at  the  same 
sinless  age  ;  and  the  sight  of  her  filled  my  mind  with  unutterable 
anguish,  recalling  those  days  of  innocent  glee  that  the  corrosive 
poison  of  guilt  had  blotted  from  my  memory. 

My  Paradise  was  in  the  past,  but  the  avenging  angel  guarded  the 
closed  gates  with  his  flaming  sword.  My  present  was  the  gulf  of 
black  despair  ;  my  future  was,  a  blank,  or  worse.  Oh,  agony  of 
agonies ! — how  have  I  contrived  to  endure  so  much,  and  yet  live  ? 

Death !  the  good  alone  can  centemplate  death  with  composure. 
Guilt  is  a  dreadful  coward.  The  bad  dare  not  die.  My  worst  suf- 
ferings are  comprised  in  this  terrible  dread  of  death.  I  have  prayed 
for  annihilation — but  this  ever-haunting  fear  of  after  punishment 
forbids  rae  to  hope  for  that.  The  black  darkness — the  soul-scorch- 
ing fire — the  worm  that  never  dies — the  yells  of  the  d d  :  these 


V*- 


^ 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


311 


V* 


I  might  learn  to  endure  ;  but  this  hell  of  conscience — this  being 
cast  out  for  ever  from  God  and  good — what  obstinacy  of  will  could 
ever  teach  me  to  bear  this  overwhelming,  increasing  spnse  of  ill  ? 
»**«♦*  * 

Ten  long  years  have  passed  away  ;  the  name  of  Squire  Carlos  is 
almost  forgotten.  People  used  to  talk  over  his  death  at  alehouses, 
and  by  the  roadside,  but  they  seldom  speak  of  him  now.  A  spleu^ 
did  monument  covers  his  mouldering  dust.  The  farmers  lounge 
around  It  on  the  Sabbath,  and  discuss  their  crops  and  the  news  pf 
the  village.  They  never  glance  at  the  marble  slab,  or  read  the  tale 
it  tells.  The  old  Hall  has  passed  into  other  hands.  Sir  Walter 
dissipated  his  inheritance,  and  died  childless  in  a  distant  land.  Tho 
lovely  little  girl  is  gone,  no  one  knows  whither.  The  homage  of 
the  rising  genei'ation  is  paid  to  the  present  Lord  of  the  Manor,  and 
the  glory  of  the  once  proud  family  of  Carlos  is'buried  in  the  dust 
with  the  things  that  were. 

Why  cannot  I  too  forget  ?  This  night,  the  anniversary  of  the 
accursed  night  on  which  I  first  shed  bloou,  aiid  that  the  blood  of  a 
father,  is  as  vividly  impressed  upon  my  mind  as  though  ten  long 
years  had  not  intervened.  How  terribly  long  have  tlu?y  been  to  me  1 
Is  there  no  forgiveness  for  my  crime?  Will  God  take  vengeance 
for  ever  ?  ,     , 

My  mother  still  lives,  but  her  form  droops  earthward.  Sad, 
silent  and  pale,  her  patient  endurance  is  my  perpetual  reproach.  I 
foel  that  my  crime  is  known  to  her,  that  her  punishment  is  as  terri- 
ble as  my  own.  I  took  up  her  Bible  the  other  day  from  the  little 
table  on  which  she  had  left  it,  and  unclosing  the  volume,  my  eyes 
were  arrested  by  these  awful  words — "  The  seed  of  the  adulterous 
bed  shall  perish."  I  felt  that  I  was  doomed — that  the  sins  of  my 
parents  had  been  visited  on  me  ;  and  the  horrible  thodght  brought 
consolation.  1  am  but  a  passive  instrument  in  the  hands  of  an  in- 
exorable destiny.  Why  continue  this  struggle  with  fate  ?  Con- 
science will  not  be  cheated.  Night  came,  and  the  delusion  vanished  ; 
the  horrors  of  remorse  are  upon  me.  I  feel  that  I  am  responsible 
for  the  acts  done  in  the  flesh,  "  that  as  a  man  sows,  so  must  he  reap." 
The  burden  of  my  soul  is  intolerable  ;  when  shall  I  find  rest  ? 
******* 

Another  year  has  vanished  into  tl)e  grave  of  time.  My  mother, 
my  poor  mother,  is  at  last  gone.  She  died  calmly  and  full  of  hope. 
She  told  me  that  she  know  all — had  known  it  since  my  illness.  The 


312 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


pad  conviction  of  my  guilt  at  first  plunged  her  in  despair,  then 
Drought  repentance,  and  repentance  hope,  forgiveness,  peace.  She 
nad  wept  and  prayed  for  me  for  years.  She  trusted  that  I  should 
yet  find  mercy  through  my  Saviour's  blood. 

It  was  not  until  she  lay  dead  before  me,  that  I  knew  how  dear  she; 
was,  what  a  dreadful  blank  her  absence  made  in  my  home.  I  no 
longer  had  her  eye  to  dread ;  but,  like  the  little  children  who  huddle 
together  in  the  dark,  was  afraid  of  being  alone — afraid  even  in 
noon-day,  of  something,  I  knew  not  what. 

Benjamin,  the  old  servant  who  has  lived  with  me  ever  since  I 
came  to  the  Porched  House,  grieves  with  m6  over  the  loss  of  a 
kind  mistress.  I  used  to  be  .sullen  and  reserved  to  honest  Ben  » 
I  am  glad  to  talk  to  him  for  companionship.  My  dog,  too,  has 
become  inexpressibly  dear ;  he  sleeps  at  the  foot  of  my  beil  at  night. 
Oh,  that  he  could  scare  away  the  demons  that  haunt  my  pillow  ! 
Ben  advises  me  to  take  a  wife.  He  says  that  I  should  be  happier 
with  a  young  woman  to  look  after  the  house.  He  may  be  right. 
But,  alas  !  what  can  I  do  ?  Will  any  woman  whom  I  could  love 
condescend  to  unite  her  destiny  with  an  old,  care-worn  man  like  me  ? 

The  iron  hand  of  remorse  has  bent  my  once  active  figure,  and 
turned  my  dark  locks  grey  before  my  time.  How  can  I  ask  a  young 
girl  to  love  and  obey  me  ? 

Tush! — I  have  wealth, — who  knows  my  guilt?  Have  I  not 
kept  the  secret  for  years?  Can  I  not  keep  it  still?  A  good 
woman  might  lead  me  to  repent,  and  teach  mc  how  to  pray.  I 
will  marry. 

*  *  -  *  *  * 

Providence,  if  Providence  still  watches  over  a  wretch  like  me, 
has  thrown  a  lovely,  simple  girl  in  jny  way.  The  evil  spirit  was 
upon  me,  the  wrath  of  God  spoke  in  tones  of  thunder,  and  the  mur- 
dered stood  visibly  before  me  face  to  face.  Nature  and  reason 
yielded  to  the  shock,  and  the  fatal  secret  trembled  on  my  lips./  In 
that  hour  of  mental  agony,  she  did  not  disdain  to  take  me  to  her 
humble  home,  to  soothe  and  comfort  the  fear-stricken  stranger. 
My  heart  is  melted  with  love  and  gratitude.  I  feel  a  bo^  once 
morp,  ?.nl  the  sins  of  my  manhood  are  lost  in  the  dim  shadows 


ray  tLiilh:-. 


*  *  «  « 

i    She  regards  me  as  her  benefactor.    My  Sophy — 


J!!b' 


She  is  the  good  angel  sent  by  a  relenting  (jlod 


tmVM 


FLORA    LYXDSAY. 


313 


to  snatch  me  from  perdition  !  My  heart  cleaves  to  my  new-found 
treasure,  and,  wonder  of  wonders !  she  loves  me.  Loves  me — the 
murdferer !  "While  her  arms  encircle  me,  the  hot  breath  of  the  fiend 
ceases  to  scorch  my  brain. 

*  *  »  ♦  » 

My  felicity  has  been  of  short  duration.  The  mother  of  Martin 
has  returned,  and  is  living  in  our  immediate  neighborhood.  This 
bodes  me  no  good.  The  raven  of  i-craorsc  is  again  flapping  her 
black  wings  around  my  head.  ISfy  sleep  is  haunted  by  fr'ghtful 
dreams.  "  There  is  no  peace  for  tlie  wicked."  The  sight  of  this 
woman  fills  me  with  dismay. 

***** 

My  wife  is  unhappy.  She  does  not  complain,  but  her  cheeks  aro 
deadly  pale,  and  she  is  wasted  to  a  shadow.  I  dare  not  inquire 
the  cause  of  her  grief.  I  remember  the  sad  patient  face  of  my 
mother,  and  I  tremble  lest  Sophy  has  discovered  my  guilt. 

*  «  *  «  * 

Oh  God !  she  knows  it  all.  She  asked  mc  a  question  yesterday 
that  has  sealed  my  doom.  Instead  of  fulling  at  her  feet  and  pour- 
ing out  tlic  sorrows  of  my  heart,  I  spoke  harshly  to  her — even 
threatened  to  strike  her,  if  she  alluded  to  the  subject  again.  Will 
ehe  be  able  to  keep  the  dreadful  secret  ?  I  tremble  before  a  young 
girl — I  dare  not  meet  her  eyes.  If  she  breathes  a  word  to  tho 
mother  of  Martin,  I  am  lost.    * 

*  *  *  *  tt  *  *  " 
Here  the  felon's  manuscript  abrubtly  terminated.     Sophy  still 

held  it  tightly  in  her  hand,  although  her  eyes,  now  blinded  with 
tears,  were  unable  lo  trace  a  single  letter  of  the  concluding  page. 

*'  My  poor  husband !"  at  last  she  sobbed,  "  the  punishment  of 
Cain  was  light  when  compared  with  yours.  Oh !  let  me  hope  that 
He  who  willeth  not  the  death  of  a  siuner,  has  accepted  your 
repentance  and  pardoned  your  sin." 

A  gentle  grasp  was  laid  upon  the  shoulder  of  the  mourner,  and 
she  looked  up  into  the  dark,  expressive  face  of  the  hunchback. 

She,  too,  had  hei*  tale  of  sorrow.  Their  mother  was  dead,  but 
her  end  was  peaceful  and  full  of  humble  hope,  and  Mary,  the  pious 
Mary,  could  not  wish  her  back.  She  had  no  home  now — she  had 
come  to  share  the  home  of  her  more  fortunate  sister.  At  first,  she 
could  not  comprehend  the  cause  of  Sophy's  tears,  of  her  deep  dis- 
tress; for  the  news  of  Noah  Cotton's  arrest  and  death  had  not 

U 


314 


FLORA    LTNDSAY. 


reached  her,  while  in  close  attendance  upon  the  obscure  death-bed 
of  her  mother. 

What  a  mournful  history  Sophy  had  to  tell,  and  how  deeply 
Mary  S}'Tnpathised  in  all  her  afflictions  !  Left  in  comfortable  and 
even  affluent  circumstances  (for  the  lawyer  employed  to  wind  up 
1^'  oah  Cotton's  affairs  found  that  he  had  large  sums  invested  in 
several  banks,  and  all  his  property  was  willed  to  his  vnfe) ,  Sophy 
was  no  longer  haunted  by  the  dread  of  poverty,  but  she  often  was 
lieard  to  say,  with  a  sigh,  that  poverty,  though  a  great  evil,  was 
not  the  greatest  she  had  had  to  contend  with  ;  that  much  as  she 
had  in  former  days  murmured  over  her  hcmble  lot  while  working 
for  daily  bread,  she  was  far  happier  than  in  the  possession  of  wealth 
that  had  been  acquired  by  dibhonest  means,  and  which  might 
emphatically  be  called  the  imges  of  sin!  "A  little  that  the 
righteous  hath  is  better  than  great  riches  of  the  ungodly." 


CIIAPTEK   K 


TKUSTINGOD. 

A  FEW  words  more,  and  my  tale  is  ended. 

The  death  of  Noah  Cotton,  fraught  as  it  was  with  agony  to  his 
wife,  was  the  means  of  rescuing  the  child  of  his  first  love,  Ella 
Carlos,  from  ruin — the  little  girl,  whose  striking  likeness  to  her 
mother  had  made  such  an  impression  on  the  mind  of  her  unfortu- 
nate and  guilty  lov^r.  After  the  death  of  Sir  Walter  Carlos,  who 
was  the  last  of  his  name,  and,  saving  the  young  Ella  Manners,  his 

sister's  orphan  child,  'the  last  of  his  race,  the  estate  at  F was 

sold  to  pay  his  debts,  and  the  noljle  property,  that  had  been  several 
ages  in  the  family,  passed  into  the  hands  of  strangers.  The  young 
Ella,  left  dependent  upon  the  fcharity  of  an  aunt  of  her  father's, 

married  the  curate  of  a  small  parish  not  many  miles  from  H , 

in  the  county  of  S .    The  nmtch  was  one  of  pure  affection  ;  the 

beautiful  young  girl  brought  no  fortune  to  her  husband.  Mr. 
Grant's  income  was  less  than  £1.50  per  annum;  but  ra  the  eyes  of 
love,  it  seemed  sufficient  for  all  their  wants.  Several  years  passed 
away,  and  the  young  couple,  though  obliged  to  dispense  with  most 
of  the  luxuries  of  life,  did  not  repent  the  imprudent  step  they  had 
taken. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


315 


Ella  was  the  happy  mother  of  three  fine  childreu,  and  she  nearly 
doubled  her  husband's  slender  income  by  teaching  a  small  but  select 
school.  At  length  the  day  of  trial  came.  Mr.  Grant  was  taken 
ill,  and  was  obliged  to  relinquish  his  parochial  duties.  Ella's 
time  was  devoted  entirely  to  her  sick  husband.  The  school  was 
broken  up,  and  after  a  long  and  severe  affliction,  which  consumed 
all  their  little  savings,  the  curate  died  deeply  regretted  by  his  flock, 
by  whom  he  was  justly  beloved  ;  and  such  was  the  poverty  of  his 
circumstances,  that  his  funeral  and  decent  mourning  for  his  wife 
and  children,  were  furnished  by  subscription.  After  the  melan- 
choly rite  was  over,  the  widow  found  herself  and  her  young 
children  utterly  destitute. 

"  I  have  hands  to  work — I  must  not  despair,"  she  said,  as  she 
divided  the  last  morsel  of  bread  she  had  among  the  children, 
reserving  none  for  herself ;  "  I  have  trusted  in  God  all  my  life, 
and  though  it  has  come  to  this,  I  will  trust  in  his  mercy  yet." 

She  sat  down  by  the  window,  and  looked  sadly  towards  the 
churchyard.  She  could  scarcely,  as  yet,  realize  the  truth,  that  her 
husband  was  sleeping  there,  and  that  she,  the  cherished  idol  of  his 
heart,  had  prayed  for  daily  bread  from  the  Great  Father,  and 
was  fasting  from  sheer  want.  It  was  a  bleak,  cold  day — the 
autumnal  wind  was  stripping  the  sallow  leaves  from  the  trees,  and 
roaring  like  a  hungry  demon  among  the  shivering  branches  ;  a 
little  sparrow  hopped  upon  the  window-sill  and  relieved  his  hunger 
by  picking  up  some  grass-seeds  that  the  childreu  had  gathered  in 
the  ear,  and  left  by  accident  there — and  while  the  poor  mourner 
watched  the  bird  through  her  tears,  the  text  which  so  touchingly 
illustrates  the  providential  care  of  the  Creator,  recurred  to  her 
memory  "  Fear  not,  ye  are  of  more  value  tha^many  sparrows  ;" 
and  she  dried  the  tears  from  her  eyes,  and  felt  comforted. 

The  postman's  sharp  rap  at  the  door  roused  her  from  her  vision 
of  hope  and  trust,  and  she  was  oresented  with  a  letter.  Alas  !  the 
postage  was  unpaid.  To  her,  who  had  not  a  single  penny,  this  was 
a  severe  disappointment. 

"  John  Hays,  I  cannot  take  in  the  letter." 

"  Why  not,  ma'am ;  I'm  sure  'tis  directed  to  you." 

"Yes — ^but  I  have  no  money — I  eannot  pay  the  post." 

"  'Tis  only  a  shilling." 

*'  It  might  as  well  be  a  pound,  John.    You  must  take  it  back." 

"  No,  ma'am,  that's  just  what  John  Hays  won't  do.    I  am't 


316 


FLORA   LYNDSAY. 


over  rich  myself,  but  I  will  trust  you  with  the  shilling,  aud  tako 
my  chance.    That  letter  may  bring  you  news  of  a  forten." 

Mrs.  Grant  read  the  letter  ;  honest  John,,  leaning  against  the 
open  door,  eyed  her  all  the  while.  At  length  she  clasped  her  hands 
together  and  burst  into  tears. 

"  Oh  lauk !  oh  lauk !"  he  cried,  shaking  his  head  ;  "  there's  no 
luck  after  all." 

Mrs.  Grant  shook  him  heartily  by  the  hand.  "  Your  money  is 
safe,  John  ;  the  letter  does  contain  good  news — news  most  unex- 
pected and  surprising.  Thanks  be  to  God  1  no  one  ever  trusted 
Him  in  vain." 

The  letter  which  gave  such  relief  to  her  mind,  was  from  tho 
lawyer  employed  by  Mrs.  Cotton  in  arranging  her  husband's 
afifairs.  It  apprised  Mrs.  Grant  of  the  sum  of  money  found  after 
his  death  in  Noah  Cotton's  bureau,  to  which  she  was  the  lawful 
heir,  and  requesting  her  for  the  necessary  documents  that  would 
enable  him  to  transfer  it  to  her. 

This  unhoped-for  piece  of  good  fortune  enabled  Mrs.  Grant  to 
emigrate  with  her  children  to  Lower  Canada,  where  a  brother  of 
Mr.  Grant's  had  been  settled  some  years.  She  opened  a  school 
in  one  of  the  principal  towns,  and  became  a  rich  and  prosper- 
ous woman. 

Her  eldest  son  is  now  a  surgeon  in  good  practise ;  her  youngest 
a  pious  minister ;  her  daughter  the  wife  of  a  respectable  mer- 
chant. In  the  hour  of  adversity,  let  us  cling  close  to  the  Great 
Father,  and  he  will  not  leave  us  without  daily  bread. 


?  ^       CHAPTER  LI. 

FISHING   ON   THE   BANKS." 

Flora  finished  her  story,  but  she  wanted  courage  to  read  it  to 
her  husband,  who  was  very  fastidious  about  his  wife's  literary  per- 
formances. And  many  long  years  passed  away,  and  they  had 
known  great  sorrows  and  trials  in  the  Canadian  wilderness,  before 
she  again  brought  the  time-worn  manuscript  to  light,  aud  submit- 
ted it  to  his  critical  eye. 

And  because  it  pleased  him,  she,  with  the  vanity  natural  to  her 
sex,  to  say  nothing  of  the  vanity  so  common  to  the  author,  thought 
that  it  might  find  favor  with  the  public. 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


317 


They  had  just  reachwl  the  banks  of  Newfoundland,  when  she 
coranienccd  writing  Noah  Cotton,  and  the  ship  still  lay  there  in 
rain  and  fog,  when  she  brought  it  to  a  close. 

The  condition  of  the  Anne  and  her  passengers  was  little  to  bo 
envied.  In  the  steerage,  the  provisions  of  the  emigrants  were  nearly 
exhausted,  and  the  allowance  of  execrable,  stinking  water  was 
diminished  to  a  pint  a  day  per  head.  Famine  already  began  to 
stare  them  in  the  face.  They  had  been  six  weeks  at  sea,  and  tho 
poorer  emigrants  had  only  provided  necessaries  for  that  period. 
Th'j  Captain  was  obliged  to  examine  the  stores  that  still  remained, 
and  to  charge  the  people  to  make  the  most  sparing  use  of  them 
until  they  made  land. 

The  improvident,  by  this  time,  were  utterly  destitute,  and  wero 
fed  by  the  (.-aptain,  who  made  them  pay  what  little  they  could 
towards  their  support.  This,  Mr.  TiOotie  told  them,  was  an  act  of 
tyranny,  for  the  Captain  was  bound  to  feed  them  as  long  as  he  had 
a  biscuit  in  the  ship.  Indeed,  he  Ipst  no  opportunity  of  fostering 
dissensions  between  Boreas  and  his  people,  and  the  difiicult  position 
in  which  the  old  sailor  was  placed  was  renderetl  doubly  bo  by  tho 
mischievous  and  false  representations  of  this  base-minded  man. 

The  poor  emigrants  grew  discontented,  as  their  wants  daily 
increased,  and  had  no  longer  spirits  to  dance  and  enjoy  themselves ; 
yet  some  sort  of  excitement  seemed  absolutely  necessary  to*  keep 
their  minds  from  preying  upon  themselves  and  each  other. 

Now  would  have  been  the  time  for  Mr.  S to  have  proved 

his  Cliristian  ministry,  and  tried  by  his  advice,  and  the  gentle  appli- 
cation ut  that  unerring  balsam  for  all  diseases  of  mind  and  body, 
the  Word  of  God,  to  reconcile  these  poor  people  to  their  situation, 
and  teach  them  to  bear  with  fortitude  the  further  trials  to  which 
they  might  be  exposed. 

But  at  this  critical  period  of  the  voyage,  he  kept  aloof,  and  sel- 
dom made  his  appearance  upon  the  deck,  or  if  he  did  steal  out  for 
a  constitutional  promenade,  he  rarely  exchanged  a  salutation  with 
the  passengers. 

Not  so  Mr.  Lootie.  The  little  brown  man  had  roused  himself 
from  his  lair,  and  was  all  alive.  lie  might  constantly  be  seen  near  the 
forecastle,  surrounded  by  a  set  of  half-famished  young  fellows,  en- 
joying a  low  species  of  gambling,  well  known  to  school-boys  as 
"  Pitch  and  Toss,"  "  Chuck  Farthing,"  and  other  equally  elegant 
terms,  quite  worthy  of  the  amusement. 


iii  i 


818 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


There  are  some  minds  so  base,  that  they  only  require  a  combina- 
tion of  circumstances,  to  show  to  what  depths  of  meanness  they 
can  stoop.  '' 

Mr.  Lootie's  was  a  mind  of  this  cUxss.  He  felt  no  remorse  in 
replenishing  his  pockets  from  the  scanty  resources  of  these  poor 
wnigrants,  joining  in  the  lowest  species  of  gambling,  in  order  to 
win  their  money,  part  of  which,  as  a  sort  of  excuse  to  himself,  he 
cxjxjnded  in  liquor,  in  order  to  reconcile  his  victims  to  their  loss. 
For  with  very  few  exceptions,  he  was  always  the  winner. 

Even  the  solitary  sixpence,  the  sole  fortune  of  the  brother  Muck- 
leroys,  found  its  way  into  the  pocket  of  the  rapacious  defaulter. 

Flora  watched  these  proceeding  until  she  could  control  her  indig- 
nation no  longer,  and  accosting  Mr.  Lootie  on  deck,  she  remon- 
strated with  him  on  his  immoral  and  most  ungcntlemanly  conduct. 
He  replied,  with  a  sneer,  "  They  were  fools.  He  had  as  much 
right  to  take  advantage  of  their  folly  as  another.  Some  one  would 
win  their  money  if  he  did  not.  The  people  were  hungry  and  dis- 
appointed ;  they  wanted  amusement,  and  so  did  he,  and  he  was  not 
responsible  to  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  or  any  one  else,  for  his  conduct." 

Flora  appealed  to  his  conscience. 

Tlie  man  had  no  conscience^  It  had  been  hardened  and  rendered 
callous  long  years  ago,  in  the  furnace  of  the  world ;  and  she  turned 
from  his  coarse,  unfeeling  face  with  sentiments  of  aversion  and  dis- 
gust. 

She  next  tried  to  warn  his  simple  victims  against  venturing  their 
little  all  in  an  unequal  contest  with  an  artful,  designing  man.  In 
both  cases  her  good  intentions  were  frustrated.  The  want  of  em- 
ployment, and  the  tedium  of  a  long,  dull  voyage,  protracted  under 
very  unfavorable  circumstances,  an  insufficiency  of  food  and  water, 
the  want  of  the  latter  in  particular  rendering  them  feverish  and 
restless,  made  the  emigrants  eager  for  any  diversion  S'lflkiently  ex- 
citing to  rouse  them  from  the  listless  apathy  into  which  many  of 
them  were  fast  sinking.  They  preferred  gambling,  a.iicl.  losing  their 
money,  to  the  dullness  of  remaining  inactive ;  and  the  avarice  of 
their  opponent  was  too  great  to  yield  to  a  woman's  arguments. 
Mr.  Lootie  was  a  person  who  held  dogs  and  women  in  contempt, 
and  in  return,  he  was  hated  and  defied  by  the  one,  and  shunned  and 
disliked  by  the  other  ;  the  unerring  instinct  of  the  dog,  and  the 
refined  sensibility  of  the  woman,  keenly  disciuninating  the  brutal 
character  of  the  man." 


FLOttA    LYNnSAY. 


319 


In  tlie  cabin,  the  LynJsuys  fjirod  very  little  bettor  than  the 
emigrants  in  the  stet;rage.  Tea,  sugar,  and  coRee  wore  luxu- 
rica  no  longer  to  be  tlignglit  of;  they  just  lasted  the  six  weeks,  and 
one  luoruing,  Sam  Fraser,  with  a  rueful  fa<.'e,  displayed  the  empty 
tea-pot,  and  conveyed  the  molancli(»Iy  iiitcliigeRce  "  that  tiiey  wen; 
out  of  everything  fit  fur  Christians  to  oat  or  drink." 

"  Can't  be  helped,  Sam,"  said  tl;'  (iaptain,  shrugging  his  shonl- 
ders.  "  We  may  be  thankful  that  liiiugs  aren't  worse.  There  is 
fitill  water  iu  the  hold." 

"  Not  njueh  of  that  either,  sir.  It's  just  the  color  of  tea,  sir  if 
it  had  but  the  llavor." 

"J/"' — ah !  that  terribhi  if.  What  a  diTercnce  It  made  to  all 
coneerned  in  its  introduction  into  that  sentence — "  //  it  had  but  the 
llavor !"  The  smell  of  the  water,  when  it  entered  the  cabin,  was 
bad  one  ugh  to  sicken  the  keenest  appetite  ;  it  was  sufficiently  dis- 
gusting  to  make  the  strongest  individual  there  wish  that  he  had  no 
nose,  no  taste,  no  recollection  of  a  better  and  purer  element,  while 
drinking  it.  The  water  wtvs  dead,  corrupt,  siiiikijig,  aiKl  had  boon 
€0  for  the  last  fortnight ;  but  it  was  all  they  had  wherewith  to 
slake  their  thirst. 

The  breakfast  this  morning  was  reduced  to  a  small  plateful  each 
of  oatmeal  porridge,  made  v/ith  the  sj.id  rich  water,  with  porter  or 
Edinburgh  ale  for  sauce. 

A  very  little  of  this  strong  food  satisfioil  Flora.  The  Captain 
and  Lyndsay  pronounced  it  "  not  bad  ;"  while  poor  James  ITawkc, 
ate  it  with  the  tears  running  down  his  cheeks  into  his  plate,  to  the 
great  amusement  of  Boreas,  who  'lold  bira,  "  tJiat  he  had  discovered 
a  sauce  for  stirabout,  he  never  saw  eaten  before." 

They  had  scarcely  concluded  their  scanty  meal,  when  Sam  pre- 
wntcd  the  Captain  with  a  dirty,  three-cornered  note,  whii-h  he  said, 
Mr.  Lootie  had  ordered  him  to  deliver  intitantly  ! 

"  What's  in  the  wind  now  ?"'  said  the  old  sailor.  "  I'm  not  a  very 
good  scribe,  and  the  fellow  writes  such  a  cram[)cd  fist,  that  I  can't 
make  it  out-     Do,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  oblige  me  by  reading  it." 

The  note  was  very  brief,  very  insolent,  and  certainly  to  the  point. 
The  S  which  commenced  the  Sir  that  headed  the  missive  had  a 
most  forbidding  appearance.  The  loop  was  formed  like  tlie  lash  of 
a  horsewhip,  and  reached  half  down  the  epistle  ;  thus — 


•"Sib — ^I  demand  the  use  of  the  tea-pot!  as  part  of  our  agree- 


■■Hn 


320 


FLORA     l.V.VIi.'Uy. 


uient.    If  tlii.^  is  lon;^er  denied,  I  tiliuU  look  mwa  you  as  an  Inferaa? 
Bwiudling  old  scoundrel  I ! !" 

James  Lootie. 
"August  16,  1832,  brig  .Inn*." 

"  He  be  d d !"  cried  IJoreas,  in  an  ecstasy  of  rage.     "  But 

tliat's  too  f^ood  for  him.     ?vlunv  an  honest  fellow  meets  with  that 
late,  who  would  scorn  to  speak  to  such  a  low,  mean,  pitiful  thief  !'^ 

*'  Don't  put  yourself  into  such  a  passion,  Captain,"  said  Lyndsay. 
"  The  man  docs  not  deserve  it ;  it  would  gratify  him  to  know  that 
he  could  annoy  you  by  his  imjxTtinence.  Just  send  Sam  up  with 
the  empty  teu-pot,  and  your  compliments,  and  tell  him  that  the  tea 
is  all  out,  and  he  is  quite  welcome  to  the  use  of  the  pot  for  the  rest 
of  the  voyage. 

"  Ila,  ha!"  said  the  Captain,  rubbing  his  hands;  "that's  the 
way  to  exasperate  him.  'J'lmnk  you,  Mr.  Lyndsay,  for  the  sugges- 
tion.    Go,  Sam,  and  make  the  experiment." 

In  a  few  minutes  Sam  relurntHl  with  a  very  rueful  face,  holding 
his  hand  to  his  head,  minus  the  tea-pot. 

"  V.'ell,  what  did  the  nu^cal  say?" 

"  J[e  broke  my  head  with  tl)o  tea-pot ;  and  worse  than  that,  sir, 
it  will  be  of  no  farther  use  to  any  one,  for  he  pitched  it  into  tlio 
Bca,  and  wished  us  both  in  h .*' 

"  A^cry  civil,  tnilv.     And  what  did  vou  sav?" 

"  Thanked  him  for  his  jiood  wishes,  and  hoped  that  we  niigl  ' 
have  a  pleiisant  voj-age.  You  know,  sir,  I  am  deaf  of  one  ear,  and 
I  pretended  to  misunderstand  him,  on  purpose  to  anger  him  tlio 
more.  But  he  let  out,  and  swore  loud  enough  to  make  the  dead 
hear." 

"  ^\'ere  you  born  deaf,  Sam  ?  or  did  you  owe  it  to  sickness  or 
accident  ?"  said  Flora. 

'•  Why,  ma'am,  that's  rather  a  hard  point  to  determine.  It  was 
a  queer  way  in  which  I  lost  my  hearing,"  said  honest  Sam,  with  a 
gri.i ;  "I'm  sure  it  ~v*ll  make  you  liiugh  when  I  tell. you  how  it  liaj)- 
pened,  but  it  is  true  '  )T  all  that.  My  old  grandmother,  who  brouglit 
me  up  (for  my  father  and  mother  died-Vthen  I  was  very  young),  waM 
a  pious  woman,  and  vcy  anxious  that  I  sliould  turn  out  a  good 
])oy.  She  made  me  attend  the  Sunday-school  regularly,  and  beat 
me  soundly  if  I  dared  to  stay  away  unknown  to  her.  We  used  1o 
learn  texts  from  the  Scriptures,  which  wei-e  printcxl  on  small,  thin 
pieces  of  pasteboard.    One  day,  instead  of  learning  my  text,  which 


FLORl    LYNDSAY. 


321 


. 


was  very  bard,  and  the  weather  v/aa  hot,  and  I  felt  particularly  lazy,  I 
put  it  into  my  ear,  and  pretended  that  I  had  lost  it,  when  the  teacher 
called  me  up  to  say  my  task.  I  don't  know  how  I  contrived  it,  but 
I  had  thrust  it  in  so  far  that  I  could  not  get  it  out ;  and  I  was 
afraid  to  tell  Granny  what  had  happened.  This  brought  on  an 
inflammation  in  my  ear,  which  nearly  cost  me  my  life.  The  doctor 
extracted  the  text,  but  I  have  been  deaf  o'  that  ear  ever  since." 

"  And  the  text  ?"  demanded  James  Ilawkc.  "  Was  it — '  Thoso 
who  liave  ears  to  hear,  let  them  hear  ?' "     .  • 

"  I  should  rather  think,"  saia  Flora,  "  it  must  have  been — '  Like 
the  deaf  adder  that  stoppeth  her  cars,  and  refuseth  to  hear  the 
voice  of  the  charmer,  let  him  charm  never  so  ^yiscly.'  " 

*'  I  don't  remember  what  it  was,"  replied  Sam ;  "  but  I  have 
been  severely  punished  for  my  idleness  and  folly." 

"  I  think  that  you  are  all  suffering  for  my  folly  just  now,"  said 
Boreas,  "  when  I  consented  to  take  that  insolent  reptile,  Lootie,  oa 
board.  I  have  no  doubt  that  all  our  misfortunes  are  owing  to 
him." 

"  Don't  dignify  him  into  a  second  Jonah,  Captain." 

"  Ah,  how  I  should  like  to  pitch  the  little  wretch  overboard ! 
But  hang  mj  if  there's  a  shark  or  a  whale  in  the  great  deep  that 
would  condescend  to  swallow  such  a  tough,  ill-favored,  cross- 
grained,  pitiful  rascal  I" 

Shortly  after  this  colloquy  in  the  cabin,  the  parties  went  on  deck 

Mr.  Lootie  wa"  as  usual,  diverting  himself  with  the  steerage 
passengers.  As  the  Cajjtain  passed  the  group  of  gamblers,  the 
men  left  off  their  amusement,  and  scowled  upon  him.  as  if  they 
considwed  him  in  the  light  of  a  common  enemy ;  while  Lootie, 
quitting  the  game,  strutted  up  to  him  with  an  air  of  insolent 
defiance. 

"  What's  tlie  meaning  of  your  conduct  to  me,  Captain  Williams, 
this  '.nrning  ?  Are  you  going  to  starve  me,  t;-s  you  are  starving 
the  rest  of  the  people  ?  Why  was  not  my  tea  sent  to  me  as 
usual  ?" 

"  Simply,  because  there  is  none  ;  and  you  must  go  without,  like 
your  neighbors,"  said  Borea-s,  making  a  strong  effort  to  control 
his  passion  before  the  people. 

"  You  are  a  liar  and  a  cluiat !"  yelled  the  little  brown  man.  "  I 
have  paid  for  these  things,  and  I  will  have  them !" 

"  Shut  up  directly,"  said  Boreas,  walking  straight  up  to  bim, 

11* 


, 


322 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


"  or  I  will  have  you  put  in  irons  as  a  runaway  thief,  and  deliver 
you  over  to  the  proper  authorities  the  moment  we  reach  Quebec. 
You  may  thank  your  stars  that  you  are  here,  and  not  in  gaol." 

The  little  man  snarled,  and  drew  back,  without  daring  a  reply. 
The  emigrants  exchanged  glances.  Some  laughed,  others  shrugged 
their  shoulders,  while  Stephen  Corrie  said,  aloud — 

*'  I  told  you,  boys,  while  he  was  making  mischief  between  you  and 
the  Captain,  that  he  was  nobody.    Now  I  hope  you'll  believe  me." 

"  He's  a  mean  chap,"  muttered  another ;  "  he  has  cheated  me 
out  of  all  my  money." 

"  And  me," — i'  and  me,"  chimed  in  several  voices.  "  If  the  Cap- 
tain gave  him  his  deserts,  he  would  pitch  him  overboard." 

That's  what  we'll  do,  my  hearties,  and  send  him  to  look  after  my 
tea-pot,  if  he  gives  us  any  more  of  his  jaw,"  cried  Boreas,  as  Lootie 
filunk  away  to  take  refuge  in  his  boat.  "  When  you  listen  to  such 
a  fellow  as  that,  you  should  be  sure  that  he  is  your  friend.  He 
tries  to  make  bad  blood  between  us,  to  serve  his  own  ends,  and  rob 
you  of  your  little  property.  Now,  mark  me,  lads,  I'll  have  no  more 
of  this  gambling  carried  on  in  the  ship,  and  I'll  make  a  public  exam- 
ple of  the  first  man  that  dares  to  disobey  my  orders." 

"Hurra,  Captain!"  cried  Stephen  ;  "  its  a  pity  you  did  not  come 
to  that  determination  a  fortnight  ago  ;  it  would  have  saved  several 
here  from  ruin." 

"  Hold  your  tongue,  Stephen  Corrie  ;  it's  not  for  you  to  brag," 
cried  the  Glasgow  lad.  "  You  may  well  be  more  virtuous  than  the 
rest  of  us,  when  you  have  nothing  to  lose." 

"  True  for  you,  my  boy,"  returned  Stephen,  laughing,  "  I  only 
follow  the  way  of  the  world  ;  and  preach  morality  when  I'm  beyond 
the  reach  of  temptation,"  '   T 

The  next  day  happened  to  be  Sunday.  The  calm  continued  ;  but 
the  fog  was  not  quite  so  dense,  and  the  sun  made  several  efforts  to 
show  his  face,  and  dispel  the  haze.  Flora  was  leaning  over  the  side 
of  the  vessel,  looking  intently  at  some  sca-wced  floating  upon  the 
glassy  surface  of  the  sea,  wh.eii  a  liirge  grampus  flung  himself  quite 
out  of  the  Tvater,  cut  an  absurd  caper  in  the  air,  and  having  accom- 
plished a  somerset,  evidently  to  his  own  satisfaction,  plunged  onc« 
more  head  foremost  into  the  deep. 

"  Aye — Mistress  Lyndsay !  what  an  awful  length  o'  a  beast,"  said 
a  shrill  voice  at  Flora's  elbow,  and  she  lookai  down  into  the  shriv- 
elled-up  face  of  old  Granny  Williamson. 


FLORA    LYXDSAY. 


323 


"  Did  ye  ever  sec  the  like  o'  that  ?" 

*'  It  was  very  amusing,"  said  Flora. 

"  Hout,  woman,  it  makes  a'  my  flesh  creep — sure  the  dccvil  has 
the  fashionin;^  o'  they  fearsome  things." 

Before  the  old  woman  could  communicate  any  more  original 
remarks,  the  Captain  came  up,  and  told  Mrs.  Lyndsay  that  ii  was 
a  capital  day  for  fishing ;  and  though  it  was  the  Sabbath,  he  thought 
that  as  they  were  situated  they  should  not  lose  an  opportunity  of 
trying  to  increase  their  scanty  stock  of  provisions. 

Flora  perfectly  agreed  with  old  Boreas,  and  he  went  among  the 
people  to  see  if  any  of  them  were  provided  with  tackle.  Only  two 
fishing-hooks  and  lines  could  be  discovered  among  the  whole  ship's 
crew.  One  of  these  was  the  properly  of  Mr.  Wright,  the  second 
mate,  and  the  two  Muckleroys  held  a  joint  partnership  in  the 
other. 

The  Captain  baited  the  hooks  with  a  piece  of  pork,  and  set  Sober- 
sides to  fish  on  one  side  of  the  vessel,  while  he  tried  his  luck  on  the 
other.  Flora  standing  by  him,  feeling  tlie  greatest  interest  in  the 
success  of  the  parties,  who  had  made  an  agreement  to  divide  equally 
among  the  passengers  the  fish  it  might  Ix;  their  good  fortune  to  cap- 
ture. 

It  has  often  been  said  "  that  a  watched  pot  takes  long  to  boil ;" 
and  for  a  long  time,  the  many  eyes  that  looked  down  with  eager 
expectancy  on  the  water,  looked  and  watched  in  vain. 

"  Confound  the  fish !"  cried  old  Boreas,  losing  patience — "  why 
don't  they  bite." 

"  They  might  give  you  two  reasons,  Captain,"  said  Corrie,  who 
was  standing  by — "  p]ither,  they  are  not  hungry,  or  have  no  appe- 
tite for  salt  pork." 

"  In  the  latter  case,  I  should  consider  them  fish  of  taste,"  said 
Lvndsav. 

"  I  could  give  you  a  better  reason,"  said  a  hoarse  voice  near. 
All  started,  and  turned  their  eyes  upon  the  speaker.  It  was  the 
preacher.  "It  is  because  you_are  desecrating  the  Sabbath,  and 
breaking  the  commandments  of  God.  How  can  you  expect  a 
blessing  to  follow  such  impious  conduct.  Captain  Williams?  lam 
astonished  at  a  man  of  your  age  setting  such  a  terrible  example 
to  your  passengers  and  crew." 

"  Hold  your  gab  I"  cried  Boreas,  "  and  stand  oat  of  the  way. 
He  who  feeds  the  ravens  when  they  call  upon  Him,  has  sent  tho 


324 


FLORA     I.YN'DSAY. 


hungry  a  blcssih;^  in  the  shape  of  a  largo  fiah.     My  cycsl  what  a 
whopper!     Hurrah,  my  lads  I — here's  somethuijj  to  eat !" 

The  ereat  cod  leapoil  and  floundered  upon  the  deek,  flapping  the 
women's  feet  with  its  slimy  tail,  and  coming  rather  unceremoniously 
in  contact  with  the  religious  professor's  black  pants. 

"  A  fish !  a  fish  !  The  Captain  has  caught  a  big  fish  !"  cried  all 
the  children  in  chorus.  The  women  clapped  their  hands — the 
hungry  men  laughed  and  shouted,  and  measured  the  length  of  their 
welcome  stranger,  calculating  how  much  he  weighed,  and  how 
many  he  would  feed. 

"He  weighs  just  forty  pounds,  over  or  under,"  said  Boreas. 
"  I  have  been  in  the  trade,  and  can  judge  within  a  few  ounces." 

"  There's  another  at  the  hook.  Captain,"  cried  Flora,  who  was 
holding  the  line.     "  Pull  it  in — I  am  not  able." 

"  By  Jove !  so  there  is.     And  hullo !  the  shoe-makers  will  beat 
us,  if  we  don't  take  care — see.  they  are  getting  one  in  bigger  tluiu 
ours — a  perfect  buster!     If  it  is  sinful  to  take  these  creature, 
comforts,  wo  are  very  thankful  to  God  for  his  mercy  in  sending 
them,"  glancing  with  his  one  eye  hard  at  the  preacher. 

"  It  is  sin,  great  and  heinous  sin,"  said  that  individual,  in  his 
sepulchral  voice  ;  "and  I  think  it  my  duty  to  denounce  such 
iniquity."  .  "**  . 

"  Yon  arc  welcome  to  do  so,  if  it  affords  you  any  amusement," 
returned  Boreas,  hauling  up  another  great  fish  upon  the  deck,  and 
coolly  rebaiting  his  hook  ;  "  but  I  would  thank  you  to  stand  back 
and  mind  your  own  business." 

"  It's  my  duty,  man  of  sin,  to  wam  you  of  yovu*  danger,  and  toll 
these  ill-advised  people  not  to  follow  your  evil  example." 

"  Tol-de-rol !"  said  Boreas,  snapping  his  fingers,  and  casting  his 
line  overboard.  '•  Our  blessed  Lord,  when  He  was  hungry,  gath- 
ered ears  of  corn  and  ate  them,  on  the  t^abbath  day.  I  and  my 
people  are  starving,  and  we  (ish  to  obtain  food  to  preserve  us  and 
these  little  ones,"  pointing  to  the  children,  "  alive.  And  now,  air, 
you  have  had  your  answer." 

The  preacher  regarded  him  with  a  sullen  scowl,  and  turned  away ; 
but  not  without  sundry  threatcnings  of  Divine  vengeance,  •'  which 
he  was  certain,"  he  affirmed,  "  would  follow  his  wicked  proceed- 
ings. And  you,  madam,"  he  continued,  addrcvssing  himself  to  Flora, 
"  I  am  surprised  to  sec  you,  who  ought  to  know  better,  not  only 


FLORA     LVN1K><AV. 


325 


1 


ftbetting  this  man  in  his  iniquitous  proceedings  by  your  presence, 
but  actually  participating  in  his  guilt  1" 

"  If  I  thought  he  was  acting  wrong,  Mr.  S ,"  said  Flora, 

"  I  should  not  be  here.  But  I  consider  that  he  is  engaged  in  a 
good  work,  which  God  has  sanctioned,  by  giving  us  the  food  we 
sought."        , 

'*  A  false  and  worldly  conclusion,  which  will  be  followed  by  the 
same  punishment  that  befel  the  rebellious  Israelites  in  the  wilder- 
ness, when  they  lusted  for  strange  food." 

"  The  case  is  somewhat  diSbrent.  Their  daily  food,  though  dis- 
tasteful to  them,  was  constantly  supplied  ;  but  some  of  these  people 
have  no  food  at  all." 

"  They  deserve  to  siarve,  for  their  disobedience  and  want  of 
faith  !" 

"  AVhen  our  stores  are  exhausted,"  said  Boreas,  "  those  who  arc 
well  supplied  must  contribute  their  stock  for  the  general  benefit. 
"We  shall  not  starve  alone." 

"  How,  sir!  Do  you  expect  the  prudent  to  give  up  their  sub- 
stance to  the  idle  and  the  improvident?" 

This  was  said  with  much  asperity  of  look  and  tone. 

"  Hunger  knows  no  law — respects  no  property.  In  cases  of 
general  distress,  men  claim  all  things  in  conunon,  and  become  Com- 
nmnists  in  downright  earnest.  While  your  locker  contains  a  sin- 
gle buscuit,  you  will  be  called  upon  to  share  it  with  the  rest." 

Mr.  S made  no  answer  to  this  speech,  and  walked  sullenly 

away. 

Before  noon,  the  Captain  and  the  Muckleroys  had  forty  no- 
ble firih  lying  upon  the  deck.  Thirty  of  these,  the  Captain  hud 
caught  with  his  own  hand. 

"  This  is  a  fine  sight,"  he  said.  "  We  have  reason  to  thank  Cod 
for  this  great  mercy,  in  spite  of  all  yon  sour-faced,  sulky  fellow 
may  say  to  the  contrary.  He  may  satisfy  his  stomach  with  beef 
and  buscuit — not  a  morsel  of  this  fresh  fish  shall  rejoice  tho 
cockles  of  his  heart." 

"  Not  so,  Captain,"  said  Flora.  "  Let  us  test  the  sincerity  of 
his  profession  by  sending  him  one  of  these  fiijh  as  his  share  of  the 
spoil,  and  see  whether  his  practice  is  cijual  to  his  professions  of 
superior  sanctity." 

"  Faith,  you  are  right !    But  he  will  never  be  such  a  d d 

hypocrite  aa  to  accept  it !" 


•n 


II 


i{ 


326 


FLORA     lA'XDSAY, 


"  Try  him." 

"  "What  lihall  I  bet  that  he  will  send  it  back,  with  a  long  sermon 
tacked  to  its  tail  ?" 

"  Don't  bet ;  you  would  be  sure  to  lose — that  is,  if  I  judge  that 
man's  physiognomy  rightly.  There  is  nothing  good  or  benevolent 
in  his  face ;  and  the  face,  after  all,  is  the  map  of  the  mind." 

"  Well,  I'll  send  it,  just  to  please  you.  Here,  Sam  Fraser ! — 
take  this  fish  to  Mr.  S ,  with  my  compliments." 

Sam  went,  and  returned  with  a  comic  smile  on  his  face. 

"  Well,  Sam,  did  he  condescend  to  take  the  wages  of  our  ini- 
quity ?" 

"  Aye,  sir,  and  returns  you  his  best  thanks.  He  has  given  Geor- 
die  Muckleroy  a  shilling  to  clean  the  fish  for  him,  though  it  is  Sun- 
day. I  think  if  you  watch  the  stove,  he  will  be  cooking  it  himself 
before  long." 

"  The  devil  he  will !  Mrs.  .  ■!'  y,  you  are  a  witch.  I  could 
have  taken  my  oath  that  he  would  not  have  touched  it  with  a  pair 
of  tongs." 

"  Captain,  you  know  little  ')f  Luiaan  mivjrc" 

"  But  the  fellow  is  so  religious." 

"  So  fanatical,  you  should  say.  That  man  never  felt  the  sweet 
influences  of  Christianity.  He  deals  in  words — not  deeds.  See, 
here  he  comes,  with  a  piece  of  the  fresh  fish  to  broil  for  his  dinner. 
Jjet  us  go  down  into  the  cabin  ;  the  sight  of  us  might  chance  to 
spoil  his  appetite."*  '  . 


CHAPTER  LII.     -     - 

THE     STORM. 

For  several  days  after  the  fishing  adventure.  Flora  was  confined  ' 
to  her  berth  with  severe  indisposition,  and  was,  indeed,  so  alarm-  , 
ingly  ill,  that  at  one  time  she  thought  that  she  would  be  consigned 
to  the  deep,  as  food  for  fishes,  on  the  great  banks  of  Newfound- 
land.   She  loathed  the  bad  water  and  food,  and  became  so  much 
reduced  by  sickness,  that  poor  little  Josey  had  to  be  weaned. 

It  was  a  great  blessing  that  the  young,  tender  creature,  suffered 

•  Afaot. 


FLORA     LYNDSAY. 


32t 


little  from  the  privation.  She  afe  her  meals  of  biscuit  softened  in 
the  putrid  water,  with  an  appetite  that  health  and  hunger  alone 
can  give,  and  looked  as  rosy  and  as  happy  upon  the  coarse  diet  pre- 
pared by  the  kind  and  attentive  Sam  Fraser,  as  if  it  had  been  com- 
pounded of  the  finest  white  bresj^  and  new  milk. 

"  Oh,  what  a  blessing  it  is,  my  darling,  that  you  continue  so 
well !"  said  Flora,  on  the  fourth  morning  after  her  baby's  natural 
sustenance  had  been  withdrawn.  "I  tliought  this  illness  would 
have  been  the  death  of  you." 

"  Dinna  distress  yersel  about  the  wean,"  said  Mrs.  Muckleroy ; 
"  the  gude  God  takes  care  o'  His  aln.  The  wee  cherub  is  as  blithe 
as  a  lark.     The  pure,  fresh  air,  is  baith  Aeat  an'  drink  to  her." 

Fortunately  for  Flora,  the  Captain  had  a  consignment  of  old 
port  on  board,  a  couple  of  tablespoonfulls  of  which,  mixed  with  a 
little  oatmeal,  twice  a  day,  was  all  the  nourishment  she  was  able  to 
take ;  but,  in  all  probability,  it  was  the  means  of  saving  her  life, 
and  preventing  her  from  sinking  from  utter  exhaustion. 

When  once  more  able  to  leave  her  bed  and  crawl  upon  the  deck, 
she  looked  the  mere  shadow  of  her  former  self. 

The  women — with  whom  she  was  a  great  favorite — crowded 
round  her  to  shake  her  by  the  hand,  and  offer  their  congratulations 
on  her  recovery.  Their  simpte  and  affectionate  expressions  of 
regard  and  sympathy  moved  her  very  much. 

"What  depths  of  kindness  there  is  in  the  human  heart!"  she 
thought.  *'  How  little  do  we  understand  and  appreciate  the  miiKls 
of  these  uneducated  people,  whom  we  are  too  apt  to  look  down 
upon  as  our  inferiors.  How  far  they  surpass  the  hacknied  children 
of  the  world  in  their  generous  devotion  to  those  they  love.  Unfet- 
tered by  conventional  selfishness,  they  dare  to  olx?y  the  natural  in- 
stincts of  their  humanity — to  act  and  think  with  simplicity  and 
truth.  We  mistrust  them,  because  we  are  unacquainted  with  their 
mode  of  life,  and  the  motives  which  influence  their  general  conduct. 
They  look  up  to  us,  and  have  boundless  faith  in  the  superiority  of 
oar  position  and  intelligence.  When  will  a  higher  Christianity 
than  that  which  at  present  rules  the  world  break  down  the  wall 
that  pride  and  bigotry  have  raised  between  children  descended  from 
one  parent  stock,  and  bridge  the  gulf  of  poverty  and  ignorance 
that  now  separates  them  from  each  other  ?" 

"  The  time  is  coming,"  cries  the  philanthropic  speculator ;  bnt 


■■■■ 


328 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


adds,  with  a  sigh,  "  it  will  not  be  in  our  day ;  yet  it  will  surely 
come." 

Three  weeks  the  ship  had  been  becalmed  upon  the  banks,  the 
dull  monotony  of  the  dreary  fog,  only  relieved  by  the  ringing  of  a 
large  bell  and  the  blowing  of  horns,  which  was  kept  up  at  regular 
intervals  during  the  day  and  nignt,  in  order  to  prevent  the  ship  ■> 
being  run  down  by  some  larger  vessel. 

At  lenQ:th  the  morning  came  which  brought  a  fair  wind  to  fill 
the  sails  of  the  Anne;  and  her  passengers  looked  up  to  the  blue 
heavens  and  blessed  the  light  of  the  sun.  Joy  and  hope  again 
beamed  from  every  face.  The  little  brown  man's  morose  aspect 
alone  remained  unchanged. 

The  tall,  lithe  figure  of  R[r.  CoHins  seemed  to  have  grown  two 
inches  higher,  as  he  paced  the  deck  with  elastic  steps  and  head 
erect.  The  little  tailor  was  at  his  past  among  the  clouds  at  the 
mast  head,  seeing  visions  of  green  fields,  and  singing  like  a  lark ; 
Stephen  Corrie  was  in  an  ecstasy  of  mirth  ;  and  Tam  Grant  could 
not  cross  the  deck  without  cutting  sundry  mad  capers  which  set  all  '' 
the  rest  laughing. 

'J'he  women  crept  from  their  hiding-place  in  the  dark  deptlw  of  the 
-teeragc,  and  sat  smoking  their  black,  short  pipes,  and  chatting  in 
lively  tones  to  each  other.  EvenjGranny  W"'lianison  forgot  to 
quarrel  with  her  daughter,  and  mounted  a  clean  mutch  on  the  occa- 
sion ;  the  soldier  Mackenzie,  to  scold  his  diminutive  wife ;  or  Mis- 
tress Macdonald,  to  annoy  the  Captain  with  threats  of  maternity, 
and  bully  h^  husband.  The  Sultan  of  the  deck — the  dour  Boreas 
himself — resigned  for  once  his  dignity,  and  condescended  to  laugh 
and  chat,  and  draw  agreeable  presages  of  the  future,  from  the  fair 
wind  and  the  smiling  day. 

Flora  felt  tranquilly  happy,  as  she  sat  on  a  camp-stool  upon  the 
deck,  with  Josey  nestled  in  her  arms,  and  old  Oscar  basking  in  the 
warm  sun  at  her  feet,  rejoicing  in  the  change  that  a  few  hours  had 
made  in  their  prospects.  The  very  waves  that  followed  in  their 
wake,  and  curled  around  their  prow,  flashing  in  the  sunlight,  seemed 
to  lid  up  their  voices  and  utter  a  strain  of  joyful  merriment,  in  hav- 
ing escaped  the  thrall  of  the  dull,  lethargic  mist,  that  had  so  long 
held  them  in  silence  and  inactivity.  Yesterday,  and  not  a  breath 
of  air  stirred  the  leaden  surface  of  the  sea.  Xo  glance  from  tlie 
sun's  bright  eye  looked  down  upon  them  through  the  blinding,  wil- 
dering  white  veil,  suspended  between  them  and  heaven.    The  mist 


FLORA    LVNDSAY. 


329 


penetrated  everywhere — it  hid  the  sails,  floated  above  the  cold, 
damp,  slippery  deck,  and  entered  the  very  cabin,  chilling  their  hearts 
■with  apathy  and  gloom. 

Nature  had  suddenly  started  from  her  mesmeric  trance,  and  was 
wide  awake  once  more  ;  and  all  "^he  human  hearts  imprisoned  in 
the  Anne  responded  to  her  electric  touch.  The  very  ship  seemed 
endued  with  living  power,  and  bounded  over  the  long,  rolling 
surges  as  if  she  felt  the  impetus  of  the  fresh  wind  that  filled  her 
canvas  in  all  her  creaking  timbers. 

"  This  is  glorious,  Captain  !  shall  we  soon  clear  the  banks  ?" 

"  We  left  them  behind  two  hours  ago." 

"  Shall  we  see  land  before  night  ?"  " 

He  shook  his  head.  It's  not  in  the  breeks  of  the  Anne.  She  is 
old,  and  slow  in  her  paces.  With  the  same  wind  we  shall  be  for- 
tunate if  we  do  so  to-morrow." 

Flora  went  to  bod,  hoping  and  praying  for  the  fair  wind  to  con- 
tinue, and  fill  tkir  sails  on  the  morrow. 

I'he  morrow  came,  anil  filled  its  appointed  place  in  the  long 
annals  of  time  ;  and  still  the  ship  held  on  her  course,  with  the  same 
blue  skies  above,  and  the  same  blue  desert  of  ocean,  limitless  and 
vast,  around. 

The  nearer  they  approached  the  desired  haven,  tlie  more  contra- 
dictory and  morose  Mr.  Lootie  became.  The  hope  which  inspired 
all  with  a  flutter  of  joyful  anticipation,  seemed  to  awaJion  no  feel- 
ings of  gratitude  and  thankfulness  in  him.  lie  grumbled  and 
snarled  at  every  one  and  every  thing. 

At  noon,  a  vessel  hove  in  sight.  It  was  the  first  that  had 
crossed  their  long  and  lonely  path  ;  and  as  she  drew  near,  every  one 
rushed  to  the  deck  to  look  at  the  stranger.  She  passed  so  near, 
that  there  was  but  a  narrow  path  of  waves  between  them  ;  and  her 
crew,  in  red  flannel  shirts  and  worsted  caps,  seemed  as  much  swayed 
by  the  excitement  of  the  moment,  as  the  half-starved  passengers  on 
board  the  Anne. 

The  Captain  bellowed  through  his  trumpet  to  inquire  her  name, 
port,  and  destination,  as  she  glided  by,  and  was  answered,  in  the 
same  trumpet  tones — 

•'  The  barque  Mary,  of  London,  Captain  Jones — freight,  timber 
— ten  days  from  Quebec — all  well." 

In  a  few  minutes  she  was  gone,  soon  to  become  a  mere  speck  on 
the  horizon. 


V  il 


y  i| 


I  I 


in 


%    1 


i^*li 


330 


FLORA    LYNDSAY, 


Flora  turned  with  a  sigh  from  following  her  track  along  ihe 
deep.  She  was  going  home,  and  the  very  thought  of  that  distant, 
never-to-be-forgotten  home,  floodwl  her  heart  with  sad  memories. 

"  Don't  look  so  grave,  Mra.  Lyndsay,"  said  old  Boreas.  "  In  ten 
days  we  may  reach  Quebec.  I  liear  Sam  ringing  the  bell  for  din- 
ner. I  thought  I  would  give  you  a  little  treat,  and  have  ordered 
the  cook  to  prepare  for  us  a  dog's  body." 

"  A  dog's  body  ! — Captain,  you  could  not  be  so  cruel !"  Sho 
glanced  round  the  deck.  Oscar  wa.s  lying  near  her,  his  red  eyes 
gleaming  affectionately  upon  her  through  his  tangled  locks.  "You 
have  not,  surely,  ordered  the  poor  Northumbrian's  brindled  slut  to 
be  killed,  to  give  us  a  ta.stc  of  fresh  meat?" 

"  Why  not  ?"  said  Boreas,  with  a  grin.  "  To  be  sure  she  is  not 
in  prime  condition  ;  but  those  three  fine  pups  of  hers  are  as  fat  aa 
butter.     The  Chinese  eat  dog,  and  why  should  not  we?" 

"  You  are  not  in  earnest?"  " 

"  Ask  Sam." 

Flora  was  perplexed.  She  saw  a  smile  on  Lyndsay's  face,  and 
went  to  Oscar's  kennel  to  ascertain  the  fact. 

Now  Oscar,  who  had  three  times  saved  the  Captain's  life,  rejoiced 
in  a  fine  greenhouse,  that  stood  near  the  companion-ladder,  and  was 
taken  as  much  care  of  as  any  of  the  crew.  The  brindled  slut  had 
thought  fit  to  appropriate  this  handsome  berth  to  herself,  in  which 
ehe  had,  a  fortnight  before,  brought  forth  three  fine  bull-dog  pups, 
that  Flor^  had  christejied  Triton,  Boatswain,  and  Neptune. 

Oscar  had  manifested  the  utmost  indignation  at  this  appropria- 
tion of  his  property.  He  had  tried  to  expel  the  female  invader  of 
his  rights  with  the  most  awful  threats  of  vengeance,  in  the  shape  of 
snarls,  barks,  and  ferocious  growls.  But  Madame  Brindle  had 
claimed  the  law  of  the  strongest,  and,  without  having  consulted 
Blackstone  on  the  subject,  had  found  out  that  possession  is  nine 
parts  of  the  law. 

For  a  whole  day  Oscar  had  endeavored  to  effect  an  ejectment ; 
but  the  brindled  slut  had  very  calmly  looked  out  at  the  door  and 
laughed  at  his  impotent  rage,  to  the  no  small  amusement  of  Flora. 
Oscar  at  length  abandoned  the  contest  in  disgust,  and  not  only  left 
Madame  Brindle  in  possession,  but  disdained  to  go  near  his  old 
domicile,  in  which  his  foe  made  herself  quite  at  home,  with  her  bot- 
tle-nosed family. 


FLORA    LYND3AY. 


331 


Flora  peeped  into  the  kennel,  but  Brindle  had  curled  herself  up. 
for  a  comfortable  nap,  and  did  not  choose  to  be  disturbed. 

"  I  am  glad  he  has  not  killed  you,  poor  beast,"  said  Flora  ;  "  but 
I  don't  see  the  pups ;"  and,  full  of  anxiety,  she  followed  the  Captaia 
down  to  dinner. 

The  laugh  wa.s  now  against  her ;  for  the  dog's  body  turned  out 
to  be  a  pease  pudding,  of  which  Ve  ate  very  heartily,  while  Boreaa 
rubbod  his  hands,  and  chuckled  at  the  joke. 

To  while  away  the  tedium  of  the  voyage,  she  and  Lyndsay  would 
take  it  by  turns  to  play  draughts  with  the  Captain.  They  always 
were  the  victors ;  he  did  not  mind  being  beat  by  Lyndsay,  but  hia 
pride  was  deeply  mortified,  whenever  Flora  won  the  game. 

"  A  man  may  beat  a  man,"  he  would  grumble  out,  "  but,  d 

it,  I  don't  like  being  thrashed  by  a  woman,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  you 
have  no  right  to  ueat  a  sailor  On  his  own  deck,  at  checkers."    • 

The  Captain  was  by  no  means  a  bad-hearted  man,  but  he  had 
many  odd  peculiarities.  One  of  these  was  his  insisting  on  keeping 
his  pipe  in  the  large,  flat-bottomed,  greasy  candlestick.  This  after- 
noon he  missed  it  from  its  usual  place. 

"  Sam !"  he  thundered,  in  his  stentorian  voice — "  Sara  Fraser  ! 
"What  the  devil  have  you  done  with  my  pipe  ?" 

"  It's  in  the  cupboard,  sir,"  said  Sam,  obsequiously. 

"  How  dared  you  put  it  in  the  cupboard,  when  I  had  found  out 
such  a  clean  place  for  it  ?" 

"Why,  sir, — I  thought,  sir,  the  cupboard  was  the  best  place 
for  it."  V         ^ 

"  You  thought !  Sir,  you  have  no  business  to  think,  unless  I 
give  you  leave.  If  I  had  put  it  in  the  pitch-pot,  you  had  no  right 
to  take  it  out,  unordered  by  me !" 

Sam  bowed  with  the  gravity  of  a  judge,  handing  him  the  black, 
greasy  pipe  with  the  deference  due  from  a  subject  to  his  sovereign 
prince. 

The  Captain  had  lost  his  eye  in  a  storm,  in  which  his  ship  (not 
the  Anne)  had  sufTered  wreck.  He  had  effected  his  escape  through 
the  cabin-window,  and  a  splinter  of  the  glass  had  pierced  his  eye 
and  destroyed  his  sight.  This  was  one  of  the  occasions  in  which 
he  had  been  saved  by  the  faithful  Oscar,  who  kept  him  above  water 
until  a  boat  picked  him  up.  The  splinter  of  glass  was  afterwards 
extracted  by  the  surgeon  of  a  raau-of-war ;  and  Boreas  kept  it  in  a 


832 


FKORA    LYXDSAV 


rnnlT-hox,  which  ho  always  carried  about  his  person,  and  looked 
upon  it  in  the  light  of  a  charm. 

"  While  I  can  licop  this  and  Oscar,"  he  said, "  I  shall  never  suflcr 
from  shipwrc(;k  again. 

It  would  have  been  a  dilTicult  matter  for  any  one  to  have  per- 
suaded hira  to  part  with  the  one  or  the  other  of  these  precious 
relics. 

A  great  many  private  letters  had  been  entrusted  to  his  caro. 
I'his  was  against  the  law.  Boreas  was  aware  of  the  fact,  and  toolc 
advantage  of  it.  Every  dull  dny — Sundays  especially — he  brought 
these  letters  from  the  depths  of  his  huge  sea-chest,  and  amused 
liimself  by  si^lling  them  over,  until  he  must  have  learned  their 
contents  by  heart. 

Lyndsay  remonstrated  with  him  on  this  dishonorable  conduct. 

'J  Ilout,  man !"  he  said,  "  tlic  writers  of  these  letters  clicutod  the 
Oovernnicnt  in  sending  them  by  mo.  It  just  serves  them  right.  I 
bIuiII  read  them  as  often  as  I  please. 

This  fact  should  be  a  useful  hint  to  persons  who,  for  the  sake  of 
saving  a  trifling  amount  of  postage,  entrust  letters  of  consequenco 
to  private  hands.  These  letters  never  reached  their  destination. 
After  having  affDrded  entertainment  to  this  rough  seaman  during 
the  voyage,  they  were  thrown  overljOMrd  before  the  vessel  arrived 
at  Quebec. 

The  next  day  the  wind  continued  fair,  but  the  weather  was  hazy, 
and  sultry  hot.  The  Captain  promised  the  first  man  who  should 
descry  land,  a  dollar  and  a  double  allowance  of  grog. 

"  I'll  bet  upon  the  little  tailor,"  'he  cried,  as  he  saw  Sandy 
mounting  with  alacri.y  to  his  lofty  perch.  "  That  fellow  has  a 
great  soul,  though  he  .voars  a  small  pair  of  brecks.  There's  luck 
in  his  sharp  face  and  ktvn  eye." 

James  Ilawke  determined  not  to  be  outdone  by  the  tailor,  and 
took  up  an  exalted  position  on  the  mast,  while  the  rest  of  the 
passengers  walked  to  and  fro  the  deck,  straining  their  eyes,  and 
looking  in  all  directions  for  the  promised  land.  A  bi^nk  of  dull 
grey  clouds  obscured  the  distant  horizon,  and,  for  some  time,  they 
looked  in  vain. 

A  warm,  resinous  smell  came  at  times  upon  the  wind,  and  large 
masses  of  sea-weed  floated  continually  past.  Flora  was  watching 
these  with  great  interest,  when  the  little  brosvn  man,  who  had  kept 
quiet  for  some  days,  sauntered  to  her  side. 


n,ORA     LYND3AY. 


833 


Ho  was  ill  a  more  contraflictory  mood  than  ever.  * 

"  A  fine  (lay,  Mrs.  Lyiulsay." 

"  Rather  hazy.     It  looks  like  rain." 

"  Quite  tlio  rcvorso.     The  sky  is  quite  clear." 

"  Indept'iulont  of  that  fog-bank." 

"  Fog  '  I  SCO  no  fog.  you  are  blind,  my  dear  Madam.  The 
atmosphere  is  unmunlly  clear." 

Flora  stared  at  him.  "Could  the  man  be  in  his  senses?" 
Presently  she  remarked, "  that  they  must  bo  near  land,  from  tho 
quantity  of  sea-weed  floating  upon  the  water." 

"  That's  not  sou  weed  !" 

"  Mr.  liOotie,  T  was  born  and  brought  up  on  the  sea-coast — don't 
you  think  I  know  sea-weed  ?" 

"  Not  if  you  call  pieces  of  reed  and  grass  sea-w^cd.  And  as 
to  being  near  laud,  that's  all  fudge.  The  Captain  only  says  so  to 
please  you." 

Lyndsay,  who  was  standing  near,  now  took  Flora's  arm,  and 
walked  to  the  other  side  of  the  deck.  "What  a  little,  ("iitra- 
dictory,  snarling  creature  it  is,"  he  said.  "  Why  do  you  Ijandy 
words  with  him  ?  Look,  here  is  apiece  of  twisted  paper.  I  will 
go  forward,  and  throw  it  overboard.  It  looks  like  nothing  but 
•  hat  it  is.  You  return  to  Lootie,  and  when  it  passes,  say,  '  there's 
a  piece  of  white  paper,'  and  just  hear  how  ho  will  contradict  tho 
fact." 

Flora  did  as  she  was  told. 

Presently  the  paper  floated  just  beneath  the  spot  where  they 
were  standing. 

"  Ah !"  cries  Flora,  with  feigned  surprise,  "  we  must  be  near 
land.     See — there  is  a  piece  of  white  paper." 

"  Pshaw !  Paper  indeed !  where  are  your  eyes  ?  It  is  a.  feather 
— a  white /ea^/ter,  belonging  to  some  sea-fowl  or  other." 

"  A  goo<ie,  perhaps,  Mr.  Lootie.  But  no,  it  is  what  I  say,  a 
piece  of  paper." 

"  A.  feather,  Madam,  a  feather  !" 

"  Why,  there's  writing  upon  it,  I  see  the  letters." 

"  Nonsense,  it  is  n,  feather,  speckled  with  black  and  grey.  I'll 
swear  it's  b.  feather  !"  and  his  shrill  voice  rose  almost  to  a  scream. 

Lyndsay  joined  the  disputants,  hardly  able  to  keep  from  laugh- 
ing in  the  face  of  the  angry  little  elf. 


T 


334 


FLORA    LYNDSAT. 


"  Flora,  did  you  see  the  piece  of  paper  I  flung  overboard  just 
now  ?    I  thought  it  would  set  you  wondering  ?" 

"  Now  Mr.  Lootie,  what  do  you  say  to  your  feather  ?" 

"  That  I  hate  senseless  jokes,  and  che  iools  who  make  them," 
snarled  the  ex-distiller,  as  he  retired  with  a  face  as  black  as  a  thun- 
der-cloud. 

About  four  in  the  afternoon,  the  clouds  cleared  away,  the  sun 
came  out  brilliantly^  and  the  cry  of  "  Lanu  !  land,  to  the  left  1"  was 
sung  out  lustily  from  the  mast-head.  ^ 

The  little  tailor  had  won  the  promised  reward,  and  it  was  not 
many  minutes  before  he  reached  the  deck  to  claim  it. 

Land  was  indeed  in  sight,  not  exactly  that  which  they  looked  for. 
The  ship  wa?  considerably  out  of  the  usual  track,  and  was  rather 
toe  near  for  safety  to  the  stern  mountain  peak  of  Cape  Breton. 
The  Captain  calculated  it  to  be  about  fourteen  miles  distant  before 
sunset,  and  the  dark  outline  of  rock  and  forest  was  visible  to  the 
naked  eye. 

It  was  a  warm,  delicious  summer  evening,  and  the  smell  of  the 
pine  forests,  was  as  rich  as  the  gales  of  Araby  to  the  poor  emi- 
grants. The  Captain  had  treated  all  hands  to  a  stiff  glass  of  grog  ; 
and  the  Duncans  had  tuned  their  fiddles,  and  young  and  old  were 
assembled  upon  the  deck  for  a  dance. 

Flora  was  too  much  entranced  with  the  sight  of  land,  to  heed 
the  dancers  as  they  bounded  past,  shouting  and  laughing  in  their 
niiul  revel  of  mirth. 

The  moon  had  risen  above  the  frowning  Cape,  and  flooded  the 
land  and  sea  with  light.  The  jollity  of  tl  o  passengc.s  and  crew 
profaned  the  calm  grandeur  of  the  night — the  august  and  profound 
solitude  of  sea  and  sky.  Cladly  would  she  have  shut  out  all  such 
sights  and  sounds,  to  commune  with  her  own  heart,  with  natue,  and 
wkh  nature's  God,  while  gazing  upon  such  a  scene,  at  such  an  hour. 
But  "  fast  and  furious  grew  the  fun,"  and  a  cry  from  her  babe  whom 
she  had  left  sleeping  in  her  little  cabin,  faint  as  it  was,  reached  her 
maternal  ear ;  and  she  left  the  revellers,  to  attend  to  the  wants  of 
her  child. 

Josey  was  fretful  and  restless,  and  more  tlfan  an  hour  elapsed 
before  she  could  hush  her  again  to  sleep.  She  was  still  lying  be- 
side her  on  her  berth,  with  the  little  creature's  arms  clasped  tightly 
about  her  neck,  when  the  shit>  seemed  to  reel  and  lurch,  as  if  sud- 
denly struck  by  a  tremendous  blow.   Then  raine  fliouts  and  cries— 


FLORA    LYND3AT. 


335 


the  trampling  of  feet,  the  creaking  of  ropes  and  chains — and  still 
the  ship  plungetl  and  tossed,  with  such  a  violent  motion,  that  she 
had  to  hold  to  the  berth  to  keep  her  feet.  What  could  it  all  mean  ? 
was  she  in  a  dream?  Elvcrything  was  bright  and  beautiful  above, 
when  she  quitted  the  deck.  Whence  then  came  the  confusion  of 
sounds — the  hoarse  roaring  of  winds — the  dashing  of  waves — the 
fearful  tossing  to  and  fro  of  her  ocean  home  ?  Flora  gently  un- 
ciasjxid  the  clinging  arms  of  her  slapping  babe,  and  groping  her 
way  through  the  dark  cabin,  with  great  difficulty  succeeded  io 
climbing  the  companion  ladder,  and  bringing  her  head  on  a  level 
with  the  deck. 

She  did  not  venture  higher.  She  saw  enough  to  convince  her 
that  woman  had  no  place  amid  the  horrors  of  such  an  awful  scene. 
A  sudden  squall  from  the  mountains  had  struck  the  ship.  The 
moon  ImwI  withdrawn  her  light ;  vast  masses  of  clouds  covered  the 
sky,  before  so  clear  and  brilliant.  Vast  sheets  of  foam  enveloped 
the  vessel,  and  huge  billows  thundered  upon  her  deck.  Not  a  stitch 
of  canvas  was  to  be  seen ;  some  uf  the  sails  had  been  rent  from  the 
mast  by  tho  gale ;  the  rest  were  close  furled.  Lyndsay  and  four 
other  men  were  at  the  rudder,  to  keep  the  ship  in  her  course.  The 
roaring  of  the  winds  and  waves  was  deafening.  Flora's  heart  beat 
violently  for  a  moment,  then  grew  calm  before  the  grandeur  of  tl)e 
scene. 

"  We  are  in  the  hands  of  God,"  she  thought ;  "  in  life  and  death 
we  are  His.     Submission  to  His  will  is  the  sublimity  of  faith." 

In  the  cabin  everything  was  loose.  Trunks  rolled  from  side  to 
side.  The  mate  had  removed  the  light,  and  utter  darkness  pre- 
vailed. It  was  a  lonp,^  time  before  she  could  regain  her  little  domi. 
cile — the  ship  pitched  with  such  violence,  that  every  step  brought 
her  to  her  knees  ;  at  length  slw  found  the  door,  and  lifting  the  mat- 
trass  from  her  bcrt^  into  which  she  found  it  impossible  to  climb, 
Bhe  took  her  baby  in  her  arms,  and  lay  down  upon  the  heaving  floor, 
commending  herself  and  her  fellow-passengers  to  the  care  of  God. 

To  sleep  was  impossible ;  but  her  r?ind  seemed  sustained  by  a 
lofty  courage  that  made  her  feel  calm  in  the  midst  of  danger.  This 
strength  was  not  her  own ;  it  was  derived  frcm  a  higher  source — 
a  firm  reliance  on  the  unerring  wisdom  and  providence  of  God.  If 
death  was  His  decree,  she  would  try  to  meet  it  with  becoming  for- 
titude. Resistance  and  lamentations  were  alike  useless;  even 
prayers  for  self-preservation  appeared  impious.    She  was  in  Hia 


336 


FLORA     LYXDSAT. 


keeping,  and  she  felt  confident  tbat  whatever  might  befall  her  and 
tho«e  so  dear  to  her,  was  for  the  best. 

The  hurricane  roared  through  the  long,  starless  night.  Floods 
of  rain  forced  their  way  through  the  skylight,  and  drenched  her 
bed.  She  buried  her  head  in  the  wet  blankets,  and  shivered  with 
cold.  Yet  Joscy  slept  as  peacefully  as  ever  on  her  mother's  breast, 
happily  unconscious  of  the  terrors  of  the  hour. 

About  four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  Lyndsay  opened  the  door  of 
her  little  cabin.     The  water  was  streaming  from  his  gai'ments. 

"  Flora,  are  you  awake  ?" 

"  Yes,  darling,'"  she  cried,  starting  to  a  sitting  posture;  "who 
could  sleep  in  such  a  storm  ?" 

*'  It  has  been  a  dreadful  night.  Tlie  danger  is  over.  The  ship 
is  no  longer  on  the  lee  shore,  but  standing  out  to  sea.  At  one 
time  WR  expected  that  she  would  run  upon  the  rocks  and  go  down. 
The  gale  still  continues,  but  we  have  plenty  of  sea-room.  I  have 
been  hard  at  work  all  night.  The  men  beliave  1  like  trumps, — 
especially  old  Macdonald  ai  d  the  Dragoon.  I  am  guing  to  change 
these  wet  clothes,  and  lie  down  for  an  hour.  So  content  yourself, 
my  Flora.     Thank  God  for  our  deliverance,  and  go  to  skvp. 

*Flora  had  silently  done  that  already.  In  a  few  minutes  she  was 
slumbering  as  peacefully  as  Josey — dreaming  of  green  fields,  and 
running  brooks,  and  wandering  with  dear  familiar  faces,  among 
nature's  quiet  haunts,  in  the  memory-haunting  eternity  of  the  past. 


CHAPTER    LIII. 


THE   SHIP    COMES   TO   ANCHOR,  AND   THE    BOOK   TO   A   CLOSE. 


The  next  morning,  Flora  hastened  upon  deck  ;  but  the  wind  was 
still  so  high,  and  the  waves  so  rough,  that,  while  there,  she  could 
not  stand  without  holding  to  the  ropes.  The  sea  was  covered  with 
foam,  the  heavens  with  flying  rack,  which  rolled  in  huge  broken 
masses  round  and  round  the  horizon.  The  land  was  no  longer  iu 
^ight,  and  old  Ocean  rolled  and  tossetl  in  his  unrest,  as  a  strong 
niau  raves  and  tosses  in  the  delirium  of  fever. 

"  The  white  mice  are  out  this  morning,  Mrs.  Lyndsay,  said  Bob 
Mo'tiOn,  who  was  at  his  old  post  at  the  helm.  "  Miss  Josey 'a 
cradle,  I'm  thinking,  was  well  rocked  last  night.    We  are  now  run- 


FLORA     LYNDSAY. 


337 


ning  righl;  afore  the  gale.  The  skipper  was  out  of  his  reckoning  al- 
together. It's  a  mercy  the  ship  did  not  founder  on  that  cursed 
shore." 

At  noon  the  storm  abated,  with  a  fair  wind. 

"  If  this  lasts,  we  shall  have  a  glorious  run,"  said  Mr.  Collins, 
laying  down  his  knife  and  fork  at  dinner,  "and  shall  most  likely  get 
clear  of  Anticosti  before  morning." 

They  passed  this  dangerous  island  during  the  night. 

"  I  am  sorry,"  said  Flora,  "  that  we  did  not  see  it." 

"  You  should  rather  thank  God,  Mrs.  Lyndsay.  But  don't  be 
too  sure — we  may  see  too  much  of  it  yet." 

The  Captain's  words  were  prophetic.  Three  days  of  otormy 
weather  and  contrary  winds  found  the  vessel  tossing  betweci?  f]!ha- 
leroi  Bay  and  the  dismal  coast,  whose  dreary  aspect  sailors  view 
with  such  fear.  The  setting  sun  shone  upon  the  white,  rocky  cliffs 
of  Cape  Gaspe,  and  the  fantastic  rocks  that  surround  that  romantic 
bay ;  and  his  rising  beams  gleamed  upon  the  sandy  beach  and  deso- 
late shores  of  Anticosti,  with  its  grey  forests  of  storm-stunted  trees 
of  horrid  growth,  that  looked  the  fitting  abode  of  the  savage  bear 
and  wolf. 

In  Chaleur  Bay  they  caught  some  fresh  fish,  which  was  indeed  a 
seasonable  mercy,  as  it  had  become  painfully  evident  that  their 
stock  .of  provisions  could  not  hold  out  many  days  longer. 

On  the  25th  of  August,  they  took  in  a  pilot,  off  Cape  Rosier,  who 
brought  some  fresh  provisions  in  his  boat,  and  the  fearful  intelli- 
gence that  the  cholera  was  raging  in  Quebec,  and  spreading  into 
the  Upper  Province. 

This  piece  of  information  threw  a  damp  upon  the  spirits  of  all. 
They  had  escaped  the  dangers  of  the  sea,  only  to  encounter  the 
more  terrible  peril  of  the  pestilence.  "  What  must  l)e,  must — wo 
all  know  that,"  said  Boreas.  "  No  man  that  knows  me  would  call 
me  a  coward ;  but  I'll  confess  the  truth — I'm  afraid  of  this  infernal 
cholera  •  I'll  be  d d  if  I  aren't." 

Every  one  had  some  prophetic  fear  or  forcboiling  on  the  subject. 
Persons  who  had  not  trcmblal  during  the  storm,  turned  pale  and 
shuddered  when  the  pestilence  was  named. 

Geordie  ^[uckleroy  alone  seemed  perfectly  indiflForent  about  it. 
"  That  man's  sic  a  raucklc  sumph,  he's  no  afeard  o'  onything  ;" 
said  Mrs.  Mackeneie,  the  dragoon's  little  dnuiken  wife.  "  The 
night  o'  the  storm  he  must  put  his  held  above  the  gangway  to  spier 

15 


338 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


about  it ;  and  sic  a  glour  as  he  gicd  at  the  sea,  I'se  never  forget  to 
my  deeiu'  day.  '  Wha'a  a'  this  muckle  din  V  quo'  he.  '  Why, 
man,  we  are  a'  like  to  be  drown'd  in  the  salt  brine.  It's  an  awfu 
storm,'  said  my  husband — '  Come  up,  an'  lend  a  han'  wi'  the  ropes.' 
*  The  dcil  may  tak'  the  ropes  for  what  I  care,'  quo'  he ;  '  I'll  no 
fash  mysel'  about  ropes,  or  ony  thin'  else,  the  night.  I'll  jest  gang 
awa'  comfortably  to  my  ain  bed,  an'  tak'  it  easy.'  An'  to  bed  ho 
went,  sure  enough,  though  his  puir  wife  was  tearing  her  hair,  an 
skirlin'  for  fear  the  hale  night.' 

The  pilot,  among  the  stores  he  brought  on  board,  had  nothing  so 
tempting  to  Flora  as  a  box  of  raisins,  which  Lyndsay  purchased 
for  her,  and  which  was  opened  for  the  benefit  of  all  in  the  cabin. 

"  You  had  better  put  those  things  out  of  sight ;  they'll  give  you 
the  cholera,"  said  Boreas  ;  "  they  wouldn't  be  so  bad  in  a  pudding," 
he  continued,  musingly — "  Suppose  you  give  some  of  them  to  Han- 
nibal, to  make  into  a  plum-pudding.  There  is  some  flour  left ;  it's 
a  little  musty — but  hungry  dogs — you  know  the  rest." 

Flora  piqued  herself  on  making  a  good  plum-pudding  ;  she  vol- 
unteered to  prepare  it  for  the  cook,  and  Sam  Frazer  provided  her 
with  flour,  water,  and  a  board  and  pudding  bag. 

"  I  want  eggs,  Sam." 

•*  Eggs,  ma'am  ? — no  eggs  to  be  had." 

"Milk." 

"  The  cow  arn't  calved  that's  to  pervide  that." 

"  Well,  get  me  some  sutit."  -        '' 

"  None  in  the  ship.    Only  a  little  ransid  butter." 

"  Take  away  the  flour  and  the  board.  The  idea  of  making  a 
plam-pudding  out  of  putrid  water,  muaty  flour,  and  raisins,  is  too 
ridiculous." 

"  Give  me  some  of  the  raisins,"  said  Sam,  "  and  Hannibal  will 
make  a  sea  plum-pudding." 

"  I  wonder  what  it  will  be  like  1"  and  Flora  laughed,  as  she  gave 
him  as  many  raisins  as  he  required. 

It  was  amusing  to  watch  the  Captain  at  dinner,  playing  the  petty 
tyrant  over  the  poor  French  pilot,  on  whose  plate  he  chucked  the 
outside  slice  of  the  hard,  tough  beef,  ivs  if  he  had  been  throwing  a 
bone  to  a  dog.  The  pilot  showed  his  white  teeth,  and  his  dark 
eyes  blazed  as  he  flashed  them  full  iu  the  Captain's  face,  and  throw- 
ing the  meat  back  into  tlie  dish,  he  strode  from  the  table. 

"  Blather,"  said  Collins — a  name  ho  sdduin  iipi.lial  to  the  Cap- 


FLORA    LYNDSAY. 


339 


tain,  and  only  when  he  wished  to  impress  him  particularly  on  any 
important  subject — "  you  had  better  try  anithcr  tack  wi'  the  pilot. 
That  won'o  do.  lie's  a  proud,  high-spirited  fellow ;  he'll  no  stand 
ony  nonsense."  ^ 

"  He  may  sit  it,  then.     I'll  treat  him  as  I  please." 

"  Then  he'll  leave  you  to  navigate  the  St.  Lawrence  alone." 

The  Captain  shruggetl  his  shoulders,  and  said  nothing. 

"  Let  me  ca'  him  back  to  the  table,  and  apologize." 

"  Call  him  back  if  you  like  ;  but  d the  apology!" 

"  I'll  mak'  it  straight,"  cried  Collins,  and,  leaving  the  cabin,  Lj 
soon  returned  with  the  Frenchman,  followed  by  Sam  and  the  sea- 
paddiog,  who,  placing  it  before  the  Captain  with  a  most  impressive 
sir,  looked  triumphantly  across  the  table  to  Mrs.  Lyndsay. 

"  A  nice  piece  of  dutFthat,  Sam,"  said  Boreas,  striking  his  knife 
and  fork  into  the  fair  sides  of  the  jolly  white  pudding." 

"  Wcry  nice,  sir,"  responded  Sam. 

'*  This  your  manufacturing,  Mrs.  L.  ?" 

Flora  shook  her  head. — "  I  was  not  going  to  disgrace  the  national 
dish  by  compounding  it  of  such  materials." 

"  You  have  been  stingy  of  the  plums,  Sam.  They  arc  scarcely 
within  hail  of  each  other." 

"  IFe  should  have  told  the  cook  to  whistle  while  he  was  picking 
Ihora,"  said  Flora,  laughing.  "  I  gave  out  plenty  for  a  large,  rich 
pudding." 

**  I'll  help  the  youngsters  first,"  said  Boreas,  handing  a  largo 
slice  to  James  Ilawke  ;  "  boys  love  duff." 

The  first  mouthful  was  enough  for  poor  Jim.  He  made  a  horrid 
face,  and  pushed  back  his  plate. 

"  Hey !  what's  the  matter  with  the  lad  ?" 

"  Oh,  it's  so  nasty,"  said  Jim,  hurrying  from  the  table.  "  I  shall 
never  be  able  to  eat  plum-pudding  again." 

Hie  pudding  looked  so  clean  and  nice,  that  Flora  was  tempted 
to  taste  it.  She  no  longer  wondered  at  the  boy's  disgust.  It  was 
made  with  rancid  fat,  bad  water,  and  boiled  in  the  sea-brine.  To 
a  stomach  unaccustomed  to  such  dainties,  it  wa.s  unpalatable  in  the 
highest  degree.  Yet  the  Captain,  Mate,  and  Pilot  ate  of  it,  and 
pronounced  it  excellent. 

'•  I  knew  how  it  would  be,"  said  Flora,  "  and  yet  T  am  baby 
CDOugh  to  be  disappointed  at  the  result." 


340 


FLORA     LYNDSAY. 


"  The  child  has  quarrelled  with  its  pudding,"  said  Boreas,  "  and 
left  more  for  us.    It's  au  ill  wind  that  blows  no  one  any  good." 

"  Pray  don't  call  it  ray  pudding,  Captain.  I  disown  it  altogether. 
There  is  nothing  English  about  it." 

Hannah,  who  had  recovered  her  health  and  usefulness  in  a  mi- 
raculous manner,  since  her  master's  quarrel  with  the  Captain,  at 
any  rate  showed  an  English  appetite  while  discussing  the  execrable 
mess.  Flora,  who  was  really  hungry,  and  longing  for  wholesome 
food,  envied  her  the  zest  with  which  she  demolished  slice  after  slice, 
and  still  kept  sending  up  her  plate  for  more. 

That  night  they  were  given  an  awful  si^ecimen  of  a  Canadian 
thunder-storm.  The  atmosphere  was  literally  a-blaze  with  the 
lightning,  while  Ileaven's  dread  artillery  burst  continuously  over- 
head, the  long  mountain-chain,  on  the  north  side  of  the  river,  hurl- 
ing it  back  from  all  its  rocky  caverns,  in  one  deep,  unbroken  round. 

It  was  a  night  of  awful  and  terrific  beauty.  Flora  had  never 
beheld  its  parallel  in  the  old  country — had  never  seen  such  electric 
flashes  of  blinding  light,  nor  heard  such  ^ear-splitting  peals  of 
thunder.  For  the  fu-st  time  their  dangerous  freight  flashed  upon 
her  mind — she  remcmbeied  the  gun-powder,  and  clung  closer  to  the 
arm  of  her  husband. 

"  See  how  the  lightning  plays  upon  the  iron  rings  and  bolts  that 
fasten  the  sails  to  the  mast !  What  if  it  should  strike  the  ship, 
dear  John?"    . 

•  "  Don't  anticipate  evil,  Flora.  Tlierc  may  be  danger ;  but  as 
we  can  neither  escape  from  it  nor  avert  it,  if  it  comes,  it  is  better 
not  to  dwell  upon  it." 

"  It  would  be  a  bad  job  for  us  a',"  said  Mr.  Collins  ;  "  but  if  it 
sud'  happen,  we  should  be  blov/n  to  pieces  with  the  ship  an'  ken 
nothing  about  it.    I  canua'  imagine  an  easier  death." 

"  The  very  suddenness  of  it  malccs  it  appear  to  me  so  dreadful," 
said  Flora.  *'  It  is  not  pleasant  to  know  that  you  are  standing 
over  a  volcano — that  one  spark  might  ignite,  and  scatter  you  in 
fragments  into  the  air  and  waters.  Are  these  storms  common  in 
Canada?" 

"  I  dinna  ken,"  returned  Collins  ;  "  this  is  my  first  voyage.* 

"  They  are  of  frequent  occurrence,  Mrs.  Lyudsay,"  said  Mr. 
"Wright,  who  happened  to  be  passing,  "  and  are  often  accompanied 
with  dreaful  hurricanes,  that  sweep  down  everything  that  obstructs 


3t 


FLORA     LYNDSAY. 


341 


their  course.  The  awful  fire  at  Miramiclii,  which  took  i)lace  a  few 
years  ago,  and  which  burnt  up  half  the  forests  in  the  country,  was 
supposed  to  have  been  kindled  by  lightning.  I  happcne<l  to  be 
there  at  the  time ;  and  though  staying  in  a  cleared  part  of  the 
country  with  a  relation  of  my  wife's,  the  appearance  that  the  fu-e 
made  was  so  terrible,  that  it  often  haunts  me  in  dreams." 

The  cabin  was  so  close,  and  the  lightning  so  vivid,  that  Flora, 
in  spite  of  the  rain,  preferred  walking  the  deck  until  the  storm 
subsided,  which  it  did  before  daybreak,  when  slu;  retired  to  l)od, 

•' Aud  sleep  protracted  came  with  double  power." 

The  next  day  brought  both  the  beautiful  shores  of  the  St.  Law- 
rence in  sight,  and  Flora  remained  chained  to  her  post  on  the  deck 
from  morning  until  night,  her  eyes  never  weary  of  dwelling  upon 
the  glorious  river,  its  romantic  islands,  and  magnificent  banks. 

What  a  noble  panorama  the  St,  Lawrence  would  make — to  fol- 
low all  the  windings  of  this  matchless  stream  from  Grosse  lie, 
through  its  chain  of  inland  seas.  Perhaps  no  country  in  the  world 
could  prasent  finer  subjects  for  such  a  work,  with  water  so  pure — 
skies  so  blue — rock,  mountain,  and  forest  so  vast — and  cities, 
towns,  and  villages  along  its  shores  placed  in  such  picturesque  and 
imposing  situations.  A  pictorial  map  of  Canada  could  alone  give 
a  just  idea  of  the  beauty  and  importance  of  this  great  country  to 
the  good  folks  at  home.  Then  consider  the  adjuncts  of  such  a 
landscape — the  falls  of  Montmorency,  and  (Jod's  masterpiece, 
Niagara.  The  panorama  of  the  Upper  and  Lower  Mississippi 
would  lose  half  its  beauty,  when  contrasted  with  the  panorama 
of  the  St.  Lawrence,  with  its  tumultuous  rajjids  aud  tliousand 
isles. 

An  old  friend  of  Mrs.  liyndsay,  who  had  visited  almost  every 
country,  had  assured  Iwr  that  nothing  he  had  ever  seen  during  his 
travels  through  the  world  surpassed  in  grandeur  and  beauty  the 
shores  of  the  St.  Lawrence — Rio  Janeiro  alone  excepted — and  so 
well  had  he  described  every  remarkable  scene  on  ^heir  passage  uj) 
the  river,  that  Flora  instantly  recognized  the  spot  from  the  vivid 
pictures  he  had  given  her  of  them  from  m(;mory. 

How  she  longed  to  land  upon  the  lovely  islands  that  continually 
glided  past  them  !  Some  of  these  were  partly  cultivated,  and  neat, 
white  farm-houses  peeped  out  from  the  midst  of  orchards  glowing 
with  ripe  fruits,  and  the  first  gorgeous  tinta  of  the  Canadian  fall. 


342 


FLORA     LYNDSAY, 


On  the  south  shores  of  the  river,  the  wheat  \vii3  still  standing  in 
the  sheaf  upon  the  yellow  uplands,  and  the  forest  and  the  har" 
vest  changing?  color,  and  blending  their  rich  hues  into  a  splendid 
Imrmony  of  the  bright  and  beautiful.  As  if  to  atone  for  the  long, 
cold  winter,  (and  yet  how  churniing  thaji^wiutcr  is)!  Nature  puts 
on  royal  robes  to  cover  her  decay  ;  and  autumn,  which  in  other 
countries  is  so  melancholy  and  sober,  in  her  russet  dress,  is,  in  Can- 
ada, the  most  attractive  and  delightful  season  of  the  four.  Who 
does  not  prefer  it  to  the  warm,  humid,  leafless  spring  ? — the 
blazing  sun,  cloudless  skies,  and  enervating  heat  of  summer  ? — or 
to  the  cold,  bright-blue  and  silver  sheen  of  the  spotless  winter? 

On  the  29th  of  August  they  passed  Crane  Island,  the  beautiful 
domain  of  Mr.  Mucpherson,  on  the  north  side  of  the  river,  and 
early  on  the  morning  of  the  30th,  the  Anne  cast  her  anchor  oppo-' 
site  Giosse  lie. 

And  here  wo  shall  leave  our  emigrants,  in  the  bustle,  confusion 
and  excitement  of  preparing  to  go  on  shore,  having  described  the 
voyage  from  thence  to  Quebec,  and  up  the  St.  Lawrence  else- 
where. A  repetition  of  the  same  class  of  incidents  and  adventures 
could  not  fail  of  becoming  tedious  to  our  readers. 

If  any  of  them  should  feel  interested  in  the  fate  of  the  Lyndsay's, 
we  will  briefly  add,  by  way  of  postcript,  all  we  know  concerning 
them  : 

The  Lyndsay's  settled  upon  wild  land,  and  suffered,  for  some 
years,  great  hardships  in  the  backwoods.  Ultimately,  Mr.  Lyndsay 
olitaincd  an  ofTicial  appointment  which  enabled  him  to  remove  his 
wife  and  family  to  one  of  the  fast-rising  and  flourishing  towns  of 
the  Upper  Providence,  where  they  have  since  resided  in  great  hap* 
piness  and  comfort,  and  no  longer  regret  their  voyage  to  Can- 
ada, but  bless  the  kind  Providence  that  led  them  hither. 

As  an  illustration  of  that  protecting  and  merciful  interposition, 
so  often  nianifeste<l  by  the  Creat  Father  to  his  dependent  children, 
we  must  here  add,  that  the  two  disuptrous  trips  to  sea  related  in  the 
former  part  of  these  volumes,  by  jirevcnting  the  Lyndsays  from  tak- 
ing passage  to  (^inada  in  the  Chieftain,  in  all  probability  were 
the  means  of  preserving  them  from  falling  victims  to  the  cholera, 
as  all  the  pa=!senger3  in  that  unfortunate  vessel  perished  with  the 
fatal  epidemic. 

The  Flora,  the  ship  to  which  her  namesake  felt  such  an  imconquer- 


i-I,ORA     LYXDSAY. 


343 


able  objection,  was  wrecked  upou  the  banks  of  Newfoundland,  after 
having  been  twelve  weeks  at  sea.  The  Captain  was  nude  a 
prisoner,  and  confinc<l  during  a  greater  part  of  the  voyage  to  his 
cabin,  by  his  brutal  sons,  while  many  of  her  passengers  died  of 
small-pox  and  want  of  food. 

How  kind,  then,  was  the  Providence  that  watched  over  our 
poor  emigrants  ;  although,  like  the  rest  of  the  world,  they  wore 
tempted  to  murmur  at  the  provoking  delay,  nor  could  discover  the 
beam  in  the  dark  cloud,  until  the  danger  was  past,  and  they  had 
leisure  to  reflect  upon  the  great  peril  they  had  escaped,  aud  the 
mercies  they  had  received  from  the  Almighty  Disposer  of  all 
human  destinies.  For  those  who  doubt  the  agency  of  an  over- 
ruling Providence  in  the  ordinary  affairs  of  life,  these  trifling 
reminiscences  have  been  chiefly  penned.  From  trifling  circum- 
stances, the  greatest  events  often  spring. 

Musa,  King  of  Grenada,  owed  his  elevation  to  the  throne  to  a 
delay  of  five  minutes  :  when  he  requested  the  executioner,  whom 
his  jealous  brother  had  sent  to  the  prison  to  take  his  head,  to  allow 
him  that  brief  space,  until  he  had  check-mated  the  gaoler,  with 
whom  he  was  playing  a  game  at  chess,  the  grim  official  reluctantly 
consented.  Before  the  time  expired,  a  tumult  in  the  city  dethroned 
his  brother,  and  gave  Musa  his  crown.  How  much  he  owed  to 
that  one  move  at  chess !  Could  that  be  merely  accidental,  on 
which  the  fate  of  a  nation,  and  the  lives  of  thousands  were  staked  ? 

So  with  the  Lyndsays.  The  storm — the  fog — the  lost  passage 
in  tlie  Chieftain — the  presentiment  against  sailing  in  the  Flora 
though  apparently  vcru  trifling  circumstances,  formed  most  impor- 
tant links  in  their  destiny.  Eeader,  have  faith  in  Providence.  A 
good  father  is  never  indifferent  to  the  welfare  of  his  children — 
still  less  a  merciful  God. 


THE   END. 


SPIllIT 


MANIFESTATIONS 


EXAMINED  AND  KXl'LAJNED. 


JUDGE    EDMONDS    RKEUTED; 


OR, 


j\:\  KXPOSlTiON  OF  THE 


Inhhiutiiru  |5^fo(^s  iinir  lirstiiul':. 


OF  THE  HUMAN  MINI). 


BY     JOHN"    B  O  V  E  E    D  O  D  S  ,  , 
ACTUon  OF  "  rnii.osoppr  or  ilkctriijai,  psyciiologv,"  "isi.moutai.ity  TuiujtruANT,' 

KTC,   KTU. 


NEW  YORK  : 
DE    WITT    &    DAVENPORT,    rUBLISIIEKS, 

IflO  ft  1C2  NASSAU  STREET. 


t> 


CONTENTS. 


P40B 

DEDICATION 3 

INTRODUCTION 5 

LECTUUE   I. 

PUBUC  OPINION  OF  SI>I1UT-MANIFK>«TATI0NS  AND 
MEDIUMS   STATED   AND   CONSIDKIIED IM-UG 

TiiK  author  tivi^oil  to  explnin  tlio  sjiirit-maniffstations — Tlicy 
aro  not  produooil  liy  tlio  nj^ency  of  depiirtod  spirita,  are  not 
a  humbug,  hut  the  ofiuct  of  a  natural  cause — Three  classes 
of  minds — the  credulous,  the  skeptical,  an<l  those  who 
calmly  iuvestisfvte — Orij^iu  of  rappin^^s  in  the  family  of  Mr. 
Fox,  March,  184H — Intelligence  discovered;  the  a-b-c  pro- 
cess, rapping  and  writing  mediums;  they  are  sincerely  hon- 
est— The  mysterious  niture  of  tlio  subject — The  public 
divided  into  believers  .and  skeptics;  both  are  in  error;  tho 
manifestations  may  be. true  if  not  causetl  by  .spirits — The 
char:icter  of  its  mediums  and  advocates:  their  rcsjiectability, 
their  number;  ripidity  with  whicli  the  doctrine  is  spread- 
ing— Periodicals  in  its  defense — It  portends  a  new  revelation.  , 

LECTUUE    II.  ■ 

INVOLUNTARY  RAPPING  HOW  PRODUCED,  AND  THE 
FORCE   OF    HABIT    AIK^'ED U7-10 

Two  points  to  be  considerdl,  viz.  :  Motion  and  intelligence 
connected  with  if — Nervous  iini)ressibility  tiirough  passivity, 
and  tlic  result — Tlie  state  of  tlic  two  brains  ;  tlie  involuntary 
nerves  electrically  charged  more  th.ui  the  voluntary  is  tho 
cause  of  electro-mugnctio  sounds  being  given  ofT — Case  of 
the  Seeress  of  Prevorst,  and  IMiss  SlauLchtei-,  of  Virginia — 
Case  of  a  l.ady  reported  in  Professor  Silliman's  .Journal  who 
gave  off  electric  sounds — Mediums  produce  sounds  in  a  sim- 
ilar manner — Sound  is  propag;)ted  and  conducted — Tiie  force 
of  habit;  tlic  stuttering  boy;  tho  performer  on  the  piano;  ho 
plays  by  instinct. 

LECTUUE   ill. 

INVOLUNTARY  AMOTION  IN  (JENERAL  CONSIDER  ED.  41 -5.'? 
Involuntary  motion  among  the  (J reeks,  Romans,  Druids,  and 
savage  tribes — ThePythia.i  priestess  an<l  spinning  dervisiies 
— Dr.  Babbington's  account — The  cat-mewing  nuns;  the 
biting  nuns — Harcbiy's  account  of  Quaker  tremblings  and 
shakings ;  a  Quaker  lady  in  Salem,  Mass. — Seeress  of  Pre- 
▼orst — Dr.  Stono  on  the  progress  of  fanaticism — The  devil- 


S  CONTENTS. 

Paoi 

cbofle,  marble-playing,  ami  .stick-ridiug — Thfl  jerks  among 
converts — The  Bpirit-rapping  mania  is  from  the  same  origin 
08  all  other  involuntary  motiuiiH. 

LKCTURK  IV. 

THE  INSTINCTS  OF  MAN  AND  TIIK  INVOLUNTARY 
POWKHS  OF  HIS  MIND  (JONSIDKRKl).  ANU  THK 
INTKLLKSFNCF     CONNKCTKI)    WITH     SFIUIT-MANI- 

FESTATIONS    KXPL AIN ED 54-71 

Kvery  j^irt  of  tlio  huiiiun  HyHtcm  is  double;  the  bruin  ia 
double,  iinil  the  mind  that  pcrvailcs  is  double  ;  the  cert-brum, 
or  front  brain,  considercMl ;  tlie  cerebellum,  or  hack  brain, 
considered — Tiic  ofllce  of  oacii  as  the  organ  of  the  mind  ;  the 
front  brain  contains  the  voluntary  powers  of  the  mind,  such 
as  thought  and  reason — The  back  brain  contains  the  invol- 
untary powers  of  tiio  mind,  sucli  as  instinct  and  intuition 
— The  senses  involuntary — Instinct  itself  considered  in 
brutes  and  in  men — Pope  on  instinct;  creatures  have  both 
reason  and  instinct;  man  has  borii — Presentiments — All  the 
intelligence  in  spirit-manifcsfations  is  from  the  involuntary 
power  of  instinct — The  medium  has  no  will  in  writing — 
Clay — Webster;  their  communications— Writing  in  Hebrew, 
Greek,  German,  French,  and  Indian  languages. 

LECTUUE  V. 

Tlir.  TNRTINOTS  OF  MAN;  HIS  INVOLUNTARY  POW- 
ERS OF  MIND  AND  THE  INTELLIGENCE  CONNECTED 
WITH  THE  SPIRIT-MANIFESTATIONS  CONTINUED.  72-96 
Mesmerism,  psychology,  and  catalepsy  rouse  instinct  into 
action  ;  in  one  of  these  states  mediums  must  be— Seeresa  of 
Prevorst — What  corstitutcs  a  good  medium ;  false  mediums 
— Psychological  impressions  and  experiment  stated — Fits — 
The  whole  subject  of  the  spirit-manifestations  brought  to 
the  test — Proof  that  it  is  psychology  or  mesmerism  under 
the  energy  of  which  the  whole  is  done — Objections  stated 
and  met  in  every  form — Contradictions  pointed-  out — How 
tables  are  tipped,  moved,  and  raised — Me<liums  app'^al  to 
Scripture — The  angel  announcing  the  birth  of  Christ  to 
shepherds  ;  tlie  splendor  of  the  scene — The  transfiguration — 
The  angel  in  Gothsemano — The  crucifixion  and  resurrection. 


LECTURE  VI. 

THE  INSTINCTS   OF   MAN— HIS  INVOLUNTARY  POW 
ERS  OF  MIND,  AND  THE  INTELLIGENCE  CONNECTED 
WITH  THE  SPIRIT-MANU'ESTATIONS,  CONCLUDED 97-118 
Man  is  capable  of  double  consciousness ;  if  not,  where  do 
spirits  get  the  power  to  communicate — Positive  proof  that 


CONTENTS. 


man  haa  instinct  and  intuition  in  the  hack  bruin — Mesmer- 
ism proves  it — The  involuntary  power  never  roasonn,  l»iit 
knows;  through  this,  (ioil  has  innpiretl  mfn — From  the 
instincts  of  the  lower  aiiiinals  iiiun  liMHohtaiiieii  his  first  iden 
of  the  arts  and  improvcnieiits — HiHtory  testifies  it,  and  poets 
sing  it — J5y  instinct  the  m(Mliuni  writes,  by  it  the  somnam- 
bulist walks  safely  where  he  could  nut  by  reasitn  when  awako 
— Mesmerism  and  p:'ychol(igy  usefi;!  in  their  place;  not 
necdetl  to  make  a  new  revelation  of  njoral  truth — Mr.  Davis 
and  the  Bible — Swedcnborg  and  the  Bible. 


Paoi 


I-ECTUIIE   VII. 

THE  BIBLE  CAN  NOT  BR  SUPEI'.SEDKD  BY  A  NEW 
REVELATION  OF  MORAL  TRUTH— THE  MAGNAN- 
IMITY OF   (JURiaT 1 14-1'2Q 

Improvements  may  bo  made  in  the  arts  and  sciences,  but 
not  in  moral  truth— The  moral  precepts  of  (!hrist — Mr. 
Davis'  ilcscription  of  other  jdancts  and  their  inhabitants  is 
no  revelation  of  moral  truth — The  globe  contains  more  of 
natural  science  than  man  cm  learn;  tlie  Bil)le  more  of  moral 
truth  than  man  has  yet  practiced — Christ's  revelation  tran- 
scends nil  others — Christ  came  from  heaven  and  knew  man's 
moral  wants — His  power ;  his  greatness  ;  his  intelligence  ;  his 
moral  grandeur — His  roign  and  its  consummation — He  is  the 
FiRMT  and  the  Last. 


LECTIIUE  VIII. 

NOTICE  OF  JUDGE  EDMONDS'  BOOK,  AND  HIS  AllGU- 

MENT   CONSIDERED 127-114 

Judge  Edmonds,  Dr.  Dexter,  Governor  T:il!n\adge,  authors 
of  the  work  called  "  Spiritualism,"  pages  605 — The  candor  of 
the  writers  — Swedenborg's  communications  considered  ;  also 
Bacon's — The  character  ascribed  to  Clirist — Communications 
from  Clay,  Webster,  and  Callioun — Div  Adin  Ballon— The 
beauty  of  C4iarity — Andrew  Jackson    Davis'  book — Spirit- 

■  intercourse  the  Judge  thinks  will  uproot  infidelity,  and  unite 
all  denominations  in  one  harmony — Mrs.  Fish  ;  the  first  mo- 
dium.  ber  candor — Effects  of  the  gospel  in  ISOO  years — All 
magnanimous  objects  move  slowly — The  volumes  of  nature 
iVruX  revelation  contrasted  ;  the  liuman  race  are  the  students 
of  nature;  their  progress  slow;  the  same  in  revelation — 
All  men  fliifer  in  nature,  and  why  not  in  revelation  .' — All 
urc  progressing  and  approximating  a  common  goal  of  senti- 
ment— To  accomplish  this  union  niay  require  thousands  of 
years — The  agent  will  not  be  spiritual  intercoui'se  by  which 
it  will  be  effected,  but  the  ]iower  of  the  press — The  spirit- 
manifestations  the  Judge  makes  ttlder  than  thediristianera, 
and  what  have  they  done  compared  with  the  gospel.'  Nothing. 


xu 


CONTENTS. 


LECTURE   IX. 


Tags 


CONSIDERATION   OF  JUDGE    EDMONDS'   AIIGUMENT 

CONTLNUBD 145-172 

IMiysical  iiiunifestations  considci  til  ;  tho  bell  is  taken  from 
M.'s  hauil  anil  runj; ;  comb  t.ilAii  from  tliclmir;  shawlfrom 
the  sIiouMtrs,  nn<l  foot  tr";](:l  up  by  the  spirits — Table 
movt'il  and  bass-viol  and  viol.iis  placed  in  the  Judge's  hand 
and  hunj;  about  iiis  neck  aud  played  upon,  and  tho  Judge 
Htruck  with  tlio  fitldlo-liow  —  Ladies  tied  togetlier  with  a 
hundkcrcliief — Spirits  refiut'i<ting  liplits  to  be  put  out — 
Logerdomain;  tricks  with  cards;  bell-ringing  examined — 
AVerc  the  rooms  well  lighted?— The  Judge  ia  a  writing-me- 
dium and  i>cc8  visions — lie  is  in  the  electro-psychological 
Htate,  and  sees  and  hears  nil  those  things— Clairvoyants 
told  the  secret!  of  his  bosom — Tlic chair  jerked  from  under 
the  Jutlgc— All  these  tilings  should  be  perfortned  befoi-e  an 
audience  of  four  or  five  hundred  persons  to  be  proved  true. 


LECTURE  X. 

THE     EXISTENCE    OF     ISEICIIENBACH'S    ODIC-FORCE 

EXAMINED 173-216 

Electricity  substituted  fur  odic-force — Spirits  may  communi- 
cate with  mortals — Kevolafion  finished— Swedenburg consist- 
ent—D.ivis  airainst  tlie  Bible — i'rcfessor  (Irimos — Judge 
Edmonds'  <p\eries  with  spirits  us  to  understanding  how  they 
cominunicate  with  men — It  is  by  theodie-forcc  of  Von  lleicli- 
eiibach  — Sympathy  of  niiignetizcr  and  suliject  as  iofreliuvr, 
tdstitii^,  "iiinl/in^r,  hiniiiifr.  anil  stdiifj;  —  Experiments  at 
Clinton  llall~It  is  all  by  sympathy — Alagnetizer  is  unnec- 
essary— Lit  the  subject  go  into  the  state  Iiy  a  mental  abstrac- 
tion witli  tliat -uhstance  in  his  hand  h'.Mh'sires  to  investigiitc 
and  write  it  all  down  while  in  the  state — He  should  be  igno- 
riint  of  lunian  opinions — Swcdenborg  went  into  the  state 
right — Somnambulists  also,  and  sodoniedi  uns — The  various 
miidcs  by  whicii  to  get  into  communication  with  tho  subject, 
or  tliis  IJeivdienliav-h  is  ignorant — If  the  odic-force  bo  rr  1, 
why  have  not  all  clairvoyants  seen  it  ? — Since  lleichenbach's 
book  has  been  read,  all  clairvoyants  huve  secu  it,  and  luistly 
J'  dgo  Edmond,  has  soen  it. 

A  V  V  E  N  D  1  X . 

The  appendix  concluding  with  a  letter  t>  Profesfor  Bush 
Hhould  be  carefully  re'^l,  as  it  contains  valuable  matter  re- 
corduig  many  wonderful  cases  of  intellij,ence,  prophesy,  and 
without  the  aid  of  spirit-communicationa 216-262 


P<*U 


